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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24858421">Raison D'être of a Bluebell</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sulatingkappe/pseuds/sulatingkappe'>sulatingkappe</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Gore, Dubious Morality, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, It Gets Worse, M/M, Tragedy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:07:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>91,627</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24858421</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sulatingkappe/pseuds/sulatingkappe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There were a lot of things Byleth didn’t understand.</p><p>His quiet heart. His uneasiness to the names given to him. His hidden incredulity to people. His frequent visits to the tavern. His sensations when Dimitri was around. His purpose as to why he was alive.</p><p>Byleth doesn’t know that it all stems from a wretched past and the twists of fate he has yet to discover, but he doesn’t stop moving forward until he has the answers.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>103</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“His eyes are blue. Once pale as pale as the sky, now dark as the sea. Oftentimes, I find myself getting lost in them.” </i>
</p><p> </p><p>— written in a mercenary’s notebook, retrieved from the King’s quarters</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was seldom that there was a thought of such.</p><p>Because it never really crossed his mind until then.</p><p>The thought of living, the thought of dying. The thought of falling in love and the thought of falling into hatred. He never felt his heart pound firmly and he never felt the blood coursing through his veins just like others say. Just like a hollow vessel, he stood in a world with no purpose, no sort of motivation or something that would keep him moving other than his father. He was being dragged around, as if his body was never his in the first place.</p><p>Perhaps the thought that he’d stare mindlessly into the orange sky, his chest heaving up and down slowly, the aroma of burnt leather that topped rusty metallic armor, fingers laying on a badge that lay over his heart and an object that reflected the light of falling stars was something that would have eventually crossed his mind after everything else had happened. </p><p>The hue of light purple reflected on his eyes though they were barely open; they fought a certain fatigue and a certain fear that he couldn’t tell. </p><p>A ring is what he saw, a ring containing an intricate, sophisticated design of a lavender flower encased in metal. It was placed upon a gloved palm that wasn’t his.</p><p>
  <em> In time, it will be... </em>
</p><p>Never would he have thought that he’d eventually give it to someone. He never thought that he would know the meaning of his actions one day and how it affected those around him. </p><p>When he looked up at the resplendent sky, a pair of pale blue eyes caught his vision, and he knew with the familiar bliss bubbling in the weakened breathing of his chest.</p><p>“What did you dream about this time?” Jeralt asked him.</p><p>He blinks.</p><p>“I dreamt about a war.”</p><p>A war that only seemed to cease by the very moment he opened his eyes.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>I n e v i t a b l e  E n c o u n t e r s </em> </b>
</p><p>It piled up incessantly from the very beginning, the twists and turns of fate right in his head, right in the power bestowed upon his very being years back. Everything prior seemed like a blur until that certain day that would change his life forever. The little girl in his head was but an enigma, interrupting his dreams, scolding him for being too stoic and such. She asked his name, asked him if he were human, and other things about him even if she didn’t reciprocate because she didn’t even know who she was. Not even her own name.</p><p>They were different except for their day of birth; somehow they got along, somehow they didn’t. But just like her, perhaps Byleth didn’t know who he was at that time, what he was feeling or why he was even living at all. Feisty as she was, the little girl in his dreams would fall asleep quickly after saying that she had forgotten her name and that he was even lucky to have one for himself. </p><p>Everything was peculiar but what was the use of understanding it anyway. It was nothing but a dream.</p><p>Jeralt always had that look of worry in his eye every time he looked at him, there was never a time Byleth saw the creases of his bushy eyebrows disappear. Once, Byleth mentioned the issue of having dreams about a little girl in his head. It made Jeralt frown even further and Byleth never brought it up again. </p><p>Even when Jeralt laughed, there were times he’d face Byleth again and he would go back to his poignant facade. Jeralt was always so worried, as if there was just sorrow painted all over Byleth’s face that he couldn’t comprehend. </p><p>Byleth had seen a hybrid of his shock and worry at the same time not long ago. He told Jeralt that he had fallen from a stray lump on the ground, oblivious to the cuts on his arms and a huge bruise along his thigh. The cuts were no trivial wounds, it was stinging but the pain was bearable; it was as if the pain was half of what it was supposed to be. Jeralt was at a loss for words, it was as if his throat was being squeezed, a strangled noise coming out as if he wanted to say something but no words come. </p><p>The exact expression appeared on his face when he had noticed the uniforms of three students that asked for their help one day. It was as if his heart had stopped beating at that moment, fear tensing up every muscle in his body. Despite that, Jeralt still accepted their call for help.</p><p>Perhaps if Jeralt never offered his help, the strings of fate would have sustained an undeviating structure.</p><p>Having spent his years being a mercenary, Byleth found the battle an easy win even if the blade of his iron sword was quite dull. During the battle, there were instances wherein one of the students would come his way and give him a quick saying of their gratitude before returning to battle. With a vague memory, he recalls a girl having silver hair with ribbons of lavender, a boy of gold with a cheeky smile, and a boy with pale blue eyes. </p><p>In the midst of battle, Byleth was taken by the waist and pulled from a sword that threatened to strike him. Another close call he wouldn’t mind, he could simply take a vulnerary by the end of battle or let someone patch him up. When Byleth looked up, the first thing he caught was pale blue eyes staring right at him. </p><p>“Hey, be careful. That was rather close,” the boy clad in a blue cape and polished black armor told him. His blue eyes and blonde hair shone under the moonlight. The student held his lance tight, making sure that there was no one around, then turned to Byleth again, as if he were expecting words of gratitude to come. Byleth doesn’t say anything and the student looks around, flustered instead.</p><p>“Oh. Um, thank you for, you know, being here. We really appreciate your help,” the student gives a slight bow before running off to defeat other bandits. Byleth probably realized too late that he was staring at him for quite a while. </p><p>By the end of that battle, the commander of the bandits had been defeated and so did the rest of his troops. Just when they were about to retreat, Byleth caught sight of the commander running back towards the girl with silver hair. Without a single thought, he had shielded her out of pure instinct, awaiting the second where the axe would cut through the flesh of his back. </p><p>But it never came. He was faced with the pitch black darkness and the little girl in his dreams once again, chiding him for doing such a stupid stunt that would’ve taken his life within a snap of a finger.</p><p>“Do you even know what you live for?”</p><p>Byleth doesn’t answer.</p><p>She gives off a wanton sigh, tired from her own scolding, “Well, it’s fine. After all, if you don’t know the value of your life, you’re not going to protect it very well, are you?”</p><p>Byleth answers her with a conflicted face.</p><p>“Of course not,” she deadpans. “I guess it’s up to me to guide you from now on. You can call me Sothis. And if I recall correctly, I am also known as the <em> ‘beginning’ </em>.” </p><p>When he looks back to that very moment, perhaps his life had only begun from that very point in time. The little girl was confused as to why she had remembered her name only then, nevertheless, she knew how time worked-- she could manipulate it back to the past. </p><p>Sothis stalled the time before the axe had killed him, and she was capable of rewinding it to time before the commander stood right back up to strike the young girl. It was a peculiar scenario but Byleth didn’t mind. He didn’t want to end his life just yet.</p><p>“Drift through the flow of time to find the answers you seek,” was what Sothis said before Byleth was sent back to reality, the very moment where the commander stood up.</p><p>His fate has changed then. There was no questioning what had happened but he could still hear Sothis without even having to see her. She was no dream and neither was the fact that she had changed his fate by turning back the hands of time. Byleth had no time to think since Jeralt was about to ask him something, uneasiness written all over his face until a knight who accompanied the students came up to them. </p><p>That day where his life had begun, he discovered Jeralt was the former captain of the Knights of Seiros, namely, most respected knights of the entire Fódland. There was much he didn’t know, even about the person he had been with for the longest time. </p><p>Byleth hadn’t realized that it was the reason why he was led to the monastery in the first place. With the three students paying their attention to him, he had no time to reflect because of their incessant debates and bickering about leadership, strategies, and the like.</p><p>A short silence was broken by the boy who saved him earlier, “It’s your first time in the monastery right? I’d love to show you around.”</p><p>The boy in yellow breathed out a laugh and said something that Byleth could no longer hear because he focused on the strange heat that rushed to his cheeks. He looked down to his boots that trudged along the dirt of the ground.</p><p>Silently, Sothis asked him who he found striking among the three students. Almost immediately, his eyes flickered to the boy in blue. Sothis gives a light giggle at the back of his head, “I see. You’ve been staring at him quite intently a while ago. A sincere young man who saved you from getting killed earlier but… take a look at his eyes. Don’t you think that there’s something dark lurking beneath that fixed stature of his?”</p><p>Byleth agreed silently. They were eyes that were dulled like an overused sword. There was just something about that man he couldn’t comprehend. He couldn’t even comprehend why he was even interested in the first place. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"His hands are calloused, even more so when the years have gone by. He isn't so fond of them, but I am. It reminds me of the many amazing things he's done."</i>
</p><p> </p><p>— written in a Garreg Mach professor‘s notebook, retrieved from the King’s quarters</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b> <em>G r e a t  T r e e  M o o n </em> </b>
</p><p>“Professor Byleth!”</p><p>How in the world did he find himself in this situation? It was as though before he could even blink, Jeralt was rejoining the knights of Seiros and he was being appointed as a new professor in the Garreg Mach Monastery by the archbishop who looked at him with a hint of pure fondness in her eyes. The man who stood beside her was a the complete inverse, eyeing him with such scorn and incertitude. </p><p>It was happening all too quickly when the archbishop asked for his services as a professor in the so-called Officer’s Academy of Garreg Mach. The sincerity in her eyes was unnerving. And he couldn’t refuse— not that there was even an option in the first place. </p><p>Perhaps it was better than working as a servant and it was something different than being a mercenary. Everything was out of the ordinary and so sudden but what was there to do when Jeralt himself dared not to refuse any of the offers given?</p><p>Therefore, he was assigned to the Officer’s Academy of Garreg Mach, the place where the three students from that day resided; each of them the leaders of three different sectors of the same curriculum. The archbishop, Lady Rhea, tasked him to speak to the house leaders. He had already gone through the Golden Deers lead, the boy in yellow, Claude, and the Black Eagles led by the girl with silver hair, Edelgard. Both houses were interesting Byleth had to admit, however there was just one more—</p><p>“Oh, uh. Hello,” Byleth greets unsurely. Being called a professor so suddenly made him quite uneasy. </p><p>The blonde boy bows ever so slightly, “Please accept my apologies for the other day. You came to our aid, yet I haven’t properly introduced myself,” he offers his hand, “I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, prince of the Holy Kingdom Faerghus, but of course I’m just a student here in Garreg Mach.”</p><p>Byleth doesn’t take his hand but he stares at it. He wonders how big Dimitri’s hand is compared to his, completely ignoring the fact that he had to take it. Dimitri retracts his hand immediately and gives out a weak laugh while he rubs his nape. </p><p>“Uh... I heard you were a newly appointed professor. Diligent news, really! I still have much to learn, so I’m confident I could benefit greatly from your guidance. In any case,” Dimitri gives Byleth a smile, “welcome to the monastery.” </p><p>Byleth’s thoughts drifted off as to why he had to teach in the monastery again, completely forgetting that he was talking to someone.</p><p>Dimitri clears his throat, “I heard that you were investigating the houses here. So, did any of the Blue Lions catch your attention?”</p><p>A slight pause. He recalls that he did pass by their room earlier, but they either ogled at him or even gave him directions as to where the washroom was even when he didn’t ask.</p><p>“I don’t know… we can always start with you,” Byleth stated bluntly.</p><p>Dimitri seemed to have been caught off guard, “Me? Oh, uh,” he clears his throat, “please forgive me. That was rather surprising, but I’m afraid my story hasn’t been a pleasant one…”</p><p>Byleth looks up at Dimitri’s pale blue eyes as they’re not trained on him. There was certainly something unnerving about the way they seemed, but it was not as though he had the power to even decipher what it was. </p><p>“Perhaps it’s a story for another time,” Byleth says serenely, the words coming to him as naturally as always. He was a professor now, he ought to act like one. “Just know that I’m always willing to lend an ear.”</p><p>First, he’s genuinely surprised, then his lips curve into a small smile, “That’s… well, you have my thanks, Professor. Pardon me for that. So, who else would you like to know about?”</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>That was how he found himself in the classroom, the students of the Blue Lions crowding him with varying looks on their faces. He was given the first pick among the professors and had he given his choice almost instantaneously, the other faculty members in the room exchanged conflicted glances.</p><p>He hadn’t given it much thought though. Byleth thought that they were an aberrant yet promising bunch, an intuition swirling in his gut that perhaps he could get along with this class. He would just have to take his chances while Jeralt was away, it wasn’t like his life before since he was the one making the choices for himself. Things were bound to get interesting once he had picked his class as a professor.</p><p>“Does this mean you’re our professor? I... I really can't believe it! But I thought you were looking for the washroom! Oh goddess, I was too casual!” Annette exclaims. “I’m so sorry Professor. You just look as though you were our age— oh I’m sorry I said that too!”</p><p>“I really don’t mind if you speak to me casually,” Byleth says, unable to admit he was quite amused.</p><p>By the time she lets out an unsure noise of opposition, a slight debate arises between the Blue Lion students. The situation was quite ironic. It was just as though his existence was completely removed from their sight by the time they argued over how they should be addressing their professor. With their attention not directly to him, he was able to assess his students just like how he would always look at a target before having to attack.</p><p>Annette looked troubled. She was probably still realizing her own actions, her auburn hair seeming to curl up even more around her shoulders as Mercedes attempts to calm her down even when her soft voice was drowned by the rest. Ingrid explained her opinion to the prince steadily, her strong stance and eyes unwavering even when Sylvain was constantly butting in her statements out of jest. Sylvain doesn’t seem to halt until Felix elbows him by the side where he could reach, finally fed up with the nonsense he spouted. Ashe stays quiet, though he does fumble with one of the ropes on his jacket hood, as if there was something he was struggling to say in the midst of the chaos. While the short, silver-haired boy was basking in silence, Dedue seemed to share the same quietness, towering behind Dimitri with an unchanging, intimidating expression. The prince patiently listened, then brought his own arguments up in repose. </p><p>Byelth could just stare until Dimitri must’ve felt his gaze burning his cape.</p><p>“I apologize for the racket,” Dimitri apologizes. “Well then, erm, what do you think? As you can see, the Blue Lion House is a lively bunch, but you’ll see none who work harder.” Byleth looks at his students, students he’d have to teach, watch over, and pave a way to their futures ahead of them. “I’m sure we’ll cause our fair share of trouble, but I’m very much looking forward to the year ahead.”</p><p>Byleth nods. He couldn’t really bring himself to say that he too was looking forward to this new experience, somehow he assumed his students already knew once he didn’t reciprocate their joyous expressions. </p><p>With nothing else to do other than just stare blankly at the students, he excused himself.</p><p>Byleth didn’t intend to slack off that time and his lectures didn’t start until the next week, the same week there was a mock battle between the three classes. He spent his weekend wandering around the monastery, talking to students— rather, listening to students who talked to him, fishing for the Seteth’s younger sister, planting seeds in the greenhouse, and other trivial tasks. </p><p>He was the new topic of the monastery; apparently, people had a habit of pushing these ‘new topics’ around before they got the hang of things. Byleth was too slow to notice that.</p><p>It was late afternoon when Byleth had finished reading in the library and the students had already retreated to their dorms. The monastery grounds were empty except for where the cats lay and walked around sneaking for leftovers or warmth that anyone was willing to give. Garreg Mach was filled with stray cats, and much to Byleth’s infatuation, he’d always spare a portion of his meal with them. </p><p>Jeralt never liked animals except that one horse he always had. It’s a phenomenon he always seemed to have already forgotten, but their house was once filled with stray animals that surrounded Byleth. He always seemed to attract animals, making Jeralt forbid him from any kind interaction with them, saying that it was difficult to clean after them. All it took for Jeralt to concede was Byleth wordlessly holding cats close to him, saying that he’ll be the one responsible for them. He had to leave them all behind anyway, they were wandering mercenaries after all.</p><p>A cat with hazel fur nuzzled it’s forehead against his shin. Byleth took the cat from under its arms and sat on the bench in the courtyard. The cat obediently stays on his lap and looks at him in the eye as he rubs his fingers against the back of its ears. Byleth was right across the Blue Lions room, he looked right in front of him, seeing that no one was inside. Sothis was asleep so, he backtracked all the books he had read that day while rubbing the pads of his fingers against the cat’s neck. Before he even knew it, he had fallen asleep to the warmth of the atmosphere. </p><p>Once he opened his eyes that seemed like a moment later, his vision blurred until a voice came up.</p><p>“I hope you didn’t choose the Blue Lions merely for your love of cats.” </p><p>Byleth blinks then snaps his eyes open though he doesn’t jolt violently. The cat was still fast asleep on his lap but he realized that the side of his head was pressed against something. He sits up slowly just to find out that he’d been lying on Dimitri’s shoulder. Byleth blinks once more to confirm whether it was a dream or not. </p><p>Apparently not.</p><p>He realizes that Dimitri was talking about the cat despite his grogginess. “I, uh, I didn’t—“ </p><p>Dimitri laughs and the cat jolts awake, “It was but a jest, Professor. You don’t have to take everything so seriously in my account.” The cat catches sight of Dimitri and pounces off Byleth’s lap after giving a distasteful hiss at the student.</p><p>“Well, he doesn’t seem to like me very much,” Dimitri watches the cat scamper off. “I don’t think sleeping here is good for your back, Professor,” Dimitri says as he stands up, “We have a mock battle next week, so you have to take good care of yourself. I believe you’ve been overworking yourself these past few days and we haven’t even started with the lectures yet!”</p><p>“I’m... I’m sorry,” Byleth apologizes. Quite ironic how a student was the one teaching him what to do.</p><p>“Oh no, there’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m just quite concerned since you just moved in. It must be difficult for you to adjust to such a different environment.”</p><p>Jeralt had asked him just yesterday and Byleth did admit that he found it quite challenging to adapt. Byleth doesn’t admit to Dimitri that he couldn’t adapt since he didn’t want to set a bad example. So, he decides not to say anything.</p><p>“Here, Professor,” Dimitri lends his hand to Byleth. “Allow me to take you back to your quarters.”</p><p>“You don’t have to,” Byleth says unsurely, conflicted as to why Dimitri wanted to go with him. </p><p>“I insist,” Dimitri says, extending his hand, “it’s nothing but a short walk anyway. And I also want to make sure that you’ll be falling asleep on your bed and nowhere else. You’re my professor after all. The Blue Lions need you in good condition.”</p><p>Byleth finds himself silent. He finds himself silent as he takes the gloved hand of his student and stands up. He had no objections in mind, it was in a fuzzy state and something within his body was pounding loudly, reverberating all that way to his ears. He felt sick to the foreign feeling in his body.</p><p>He and Dimitri walked side by side. The sunset of Fódlan falling over them, their shadow cast narrowly to the west. They don’t speak a word to each other, but Byleth looks up at Dimitri, the light showing the features of his face. He had a courtly face of a true noble, a man who was truly destined to be king one day. Dimitri didn’t walk with such poise than he did in the day, the time where students filled the monastery grounds. It must be because of his image, he’d have to calm and collect even despite the most drastic of situations. Byleth thinks that it might’ve been difficult for him.</p><p>“Here you are,” Dimitri says when they reached Byleth’s quarters. “Sleep well, Professor.”</p><p>It was as if he left as quickly as he came. Byleth watched Dimitri’s back walk away until he rounded the corner and disappeared from his sight. Byleth cursed at himself silently for setting such an example for his student, though something bothered him more than that. Something he couldn’t really describe, or rather not say.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>The mock battle came the week after. Before the battle had begun, the Blue Lions were brimming with so much enthusiasm, Byleth couldn’t understand why they were when it wasn’t even a real battle. He didn’t say anything about it though, perhaps it was the joy of youth he could barely understand. It’s confusing as to why they would be overjoyed over a trivial thing such as a mock battle.</p><p>Being overjoyed didn’t dull their skills though. Byleth didn’t expect a victory for his class since they had much to learn after all, but they managed to pull through. </p><p>Even though he made an attempt to pull off some strategies and battle formations to explain it to the class, Byleth thought winning was out of the question, especially when they’re up against two classes. He didn’t expect them to actually comply with his orders and execute them properly. They were Jeralt’s strategies after all.</p><p>With their victory, the Blue Lions rejoiced while Byleth silently retreated from the battlefield.</p><p>Much to his surprise, later he finds his class in the corridor near the dining hall.</p><p>“Professor!” Dimitri calls out. “I’ve been looking for you.”</p><p>Byleth walks towards them, the Blue Lions looking like they were stiffened with excitement. “I was hoping we could all share a meal together. It could serve as a victory celebration and perhaps a post-battle analysis. What do you think?”</p><p>It caught Byleth by surprise, “I’m... invited?” It was odd, so to speak. He’s no more than a mere stranger they met around a week ago. </p><p>To share a meal with him was odd, yet wasn’t sharing a bed with someone after drinking somewhat worse? He decides not to ponder over the thought, at least not at the moment.</p><p>“What’s the matter with having dinner with your students? Go join them!” he hears Sothis chide him.</p><p>“Of course! Why wouldn’t you be?” Dimitri asks as if Byleth should know that it was something established.</p><p>“Come on, Professor. We can’t celebrate very well without the key to our victory present,” Sylvain says.</p><p>“He’s right!” Annette exclaims. “We were only able to win with your help!”</p><p>“Yeah. Your tactics were better than that boar’s frontal attacks,” Felix huffs.</p><p>“Really Felix? Did you really have to?” Ingrid sighs.</p><p>Felix says a retort and Dimitri tries to calm both of them down. The class is filled with bickering and hints of laughter, Byleth feels misplaced in the situation, yet quite pleased despite the chaos. There was much he couldn’t understand but this was definitely something he favored.</p><p>“Today was quite exhausting, I’m so hungry, I could barely stand,” Mercedes groaned.</p><p>“In all honesty I’m starving too. We’ll be going ahead, Professor. See you there!” Ashe said before leaving with the rest of the class. As the class left, Dimitri watched them go then eventually faced Byleth with a more sullen look on his face.</p><p>“Professor, I’m sorry to intrude but... you don’t look too happy for someone who just won a battle.”</p><p>Byleth didn’t notice. He didn’t know he was to celebrate after victories, nor did he think that he had to rejoice with people he didn’t really know. It was honestly strange other than the thought that crossed his mind.</p><p>Fighting alongside strangers who were supposed to be his students. Not the most uncomfortable situation he was in, but there was always this thought of wanting to fight alone instead. </p><p>It’s not as if he needed to concern himself with what they think. Listening and providing guidance would be enough. There was no need to get closer. </p><p>“That’s not true,” Byleth begged to differ.</p><p>“Your eyes cannot lie, Professor. Well, I understand how difficult it is to accept joy sometimes. I know we only just met, so this must be difficult for you but... I’d love nothing more than to share our happiness with you.”</p><p>The guilt pierces through him. Byleth knew that he should be grateful that they were willing to treat him with such kindness even if they were just strangers. They could’ve just ignored him right after they had won the match and went on with the celebration without him. </p><p>Yet he still feels uneasy. He always did.</p><p>He knew that it was probably better off not getting too close, but they wanted nothing more than just a dinner with their professor. He had to give them at least that.</p><p>“Um, I apologize for prying. Let’s go for dinner, shall we?”</p><p>Byleth had no other choice but to comply. There was no harm in eating with others once in a while after all.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>V e r d a n t  M o o n</em> </b>
</p><p>“You’re late.”</p><p>“I couldn’t find you. Seteth had to accompany me all the way here because I kept getting lost—“ Byleth tries to reason, but Jeralt guffaws in reply, giving a heavy pat on his back with his large hand, as the other hand was occupied with a bouquet of variegated carnations.</p><p>“I know, I know. I was kidding. It’s hard to find this place if you’ve haven’t been here before.”</p><p>“But why are we here anyway?”</p><p>It was noon when most students had headed back to their dorms; a period of peace before they came out once more for dinner. Sothis had fallen asleep during one of his lectures after mumbling something about him being so boring, leaving his mind quite black at the moment. </p><p>Byleth and Jeralt stand on the ground where people lay; Byleth had seen this place from an upper ground glance, but he never had a reason or a purpose to even take a look. There wasn’t any difference from everyday anyway, these people before him just had the luxury of having their bodies picked up, mourned for, and placed into a casket just to rot and dissolve into the wood.</p><p>The people he’s killed have no luxury of sorts. They die, they disintegrate into the soil; they become forgotten people whose remnants continue to beget the soil. Byleth could never really bring himself to care about cemeteries.</p><p>“She’s lying here,” Jeralt says. “Your mother... she rests within this humble grave.”</p><p>Just when he thought that cemeteries had no significance, he finds himself a bit taken aback from the fact that his mother did live before he was even capable of seeing her. To think that she actually lived was something so eccentric to him, especially at the fact she was buried in Garreg Mach out of all places.</p><p>“I thought this would be the best time you’d meet her,” he continues. “Your mother would’ve wanted to see you. She would’ve been happy to pick flowers with you, cook meals with you— she... she would’ve been happy to just watch you grow.”</p><p>Seeing Jeralt reminisce about his mother wasn’t a first first for him, yet he couldn’t help but find comfort in such a scene. As the breeze blows past them, it’s as though his mother envelopes them in her warmth; he feels it, and so does Jeralt because his eyes glisten under the orange hue of the sunset, they turn glossy and he tries his best to blink it away.</p><p>“What was she like?” Byleth asks and Jeralt gives a small smile.</p><p>“Ah... she was a lot like you. She was beautiful— the most beautiful woman of all Fódland, perhaps even prettier than the goddess herself,” he chuckles softly and so fondly. “She was quiet around people, but when she talked to me about her day, her voice was soothing... so soothing that I could listen to her forever even if she were saying the same things over, and over again.”</p><p>Jeralt touches a petal of pink from the bouquet, “She loved flowers. The greenhouse was always where I’d find her, always tending to the plants of all shapes and sizes. I would always bring her flowers every time I came back, and no matter what flower it was, her face would always light up. Other than flowers, she also had a strange attachment to animals since they always followed her wherever she went. I’ve always had a problem with her attachment to these things at times, but they made her smile so brightly that I cared about nothing else except her happiness. These things made her smile yet, she smiled the most when she was pregnant with you.”</p><p>It’s strange. Feeling so comforted by a mother he’s never had, or never met. To think that he was loved that much by his mother was overwhelming, yet he couldn’t really bring himself to believe it to be true.</p><p>Byleth doesn’t say any bring as Jeralt bends down to place the bouquet of carnations by the stone. “Hey, I wanna show you something.” He reaches inside one of the pockets beneath his belt and takes something petite, that it takes only his index and thumb to hold it. He places the small object on his palm for Byleth to see.</p><p>“Is that a ring?”</p><p>“It was your mother’s…” Jeralt says. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?”</p><p>Byleth nods. The lavender jewels embedded in the sophisticated structure of metal holding them together scintillated under the sky. Though it was beautiful, something about it didn’t settle within him, the familiarity of the object was disturbing. Even Sothis was strangely silent about it.</p><p>The fulgent ring shone on Jeralt’s palm, as if it were bright enough to illuminate the night sky if they were to reach nightfall. To think that the beautiful ring was his mother’s, the uneasiness was slightly settled.</p><p>“In time, it will be yours to give. I hope you give it to someone you love as much as I loved her.”</p><p>Love. He wondered why the word sickens him so. Byleth looks at Jeralt in disbelief. “But I...”</p><p>“Of course not now, kid. You’ll know it when you love someone and it’s bound to happen someday,” Jeralt says as he returns the ring. “I just pray I get to see the day where I’ll be able to give you the ring myself.”</p><p>There’s something on his mind, but Byelth refuses to think about it; the ring and the person smile in his vision, their lips pressed against the lavender jewels and against his lips. The ring on a finger that wasn’t his, under the same color of the sky. Orange, white, purple, blue. It was sickeningly familiar and overwhelming at the same time. </p><p>Then there’s something that flickers within, followed by a vague thought, and before he knew it, he could feel the anxiety rising from the earth and grappling him from below. He’s still and enshrouded by the same voice and the same scenario, telling him, over and over again that he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t— </p><p><em> fall </em>.</p><p>“C’mon kid, let’s get dinner before those brats start raiding the dining hall.” Jeralt breaks him from the restraints and he’s back to where he was. In front of his mother’s grave, in the cemetery of Garreg Mach.</p><p>With one last look at his mother’s stone, Byleth decides not to think about what he thought of previously since the wind ushered him away, as though it told him that those were thoughts not to be addressed at the moment. He was grateful Sothis was asleep or she'd question him.</p><p>So, Byleth listened and followed his father to the dining hall.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>Once upon a time, he thought he felt a sensation quite similar to the ‘affection’ the people of Fódland spoke about. Those memories had faded away somehow, yet it came to him like a clap of thunder, so powerful, so blinding, so painful, but so quick to disappear. Perhaps there’s no use trying to remember since it’s been something gone for too long that Sothis could no longer attempt to revive it, or it was just something he refused to remember up to the present day. In any case, neither of them really spoke of it.</p><p>There was silver hair under the sunlight for the most part of what comes, but Byleth knew there was more than that.</p><p>He never recalled that in his younger years, he was so fond of a fellow mercenary that worked alongside Jeralt for quite some time. He never recalled how he loved sitting on his lap and reaching his clumsy hands under the grayish locks of the older man’s hair because they were just so soft as he intertwined them around his small, stubby fingers. </p><p>He never recalled that the mercenary came from Remire Village— a village they once lived in; always taking him on horse rides in the woods and across the towns, always teaching him how to hunt using a bow, always plucking exotic flowers from the forest shrubs, placing them behind his ear, and telling him words that made the heat rush up to his cheeks.</p><p><em> My little Bluebell </em>, he would always say. They were barely the color of his hair like the man told him, but he held onto them anyway. He was known for his insensible trifling, but people were fond of it because it was part of his charm.</p><p>Byleth didn’t know that because he's fallen.</p><p>So, he let himself go for him. Without even knowing, he was like the air he needed to breathe, the fertile soil he needed to stand on, the water he needed to drink for him to grow. Even behind Jeralt, the man never forced him, at least never physically; he never pried his petals open for him to bloom because Byleth opened them up for him.</p><p>Because Byleth was a bluebell and the man was the spring.</p><p>Because he trusted him.</p><p>And because he was vulnerable, gullible, and perhaps stupid.</p><p>He doesn’t recall that he fell in love. He didn’t know why, he didn’t know how, he didn’t know why he found himself avoiding it. Without having to say a word, he gave him everything he had. Jeralt always told him to be strong around others except for him, but Byleth chose to be weak for the man. Everyone praised him for being strong, yet when their backs faced him, he was weak under someone else’s touch.</p><p>That was their secret, a secret that Byleth kept from everyone, even from Jeralt.</p><p>He doesn’t recall that the man ended up with the woman. He doesn’t recall the feeling of his chest aching and his head swirling as though he were poisoned. Not even any woman from Remire Village, but a woman Byleth was unpremeditatedly attached to— a woman who he saw as his mother. Just like how he was fond of touching that mercenary’s hair, she was fond of untangling Byleth’s locks, humming despite the boisterous laughter and staring into the distance. Little did he know her eyes were focused on only one person at the table seated with Jeralt. He doesn’t recall the way her humming soon formed words that seemed to be a natural slip of her tongue. </p><p>
  <em> From the path you gave, goddess, forgive me for I may have strayed, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You will see that by the end of it all, it is only he who would have stayed, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh forgive me, forgive me, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Good goddess forgive me, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I may not be granted a place with you up above, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But perhaps... perhaps... I give it all up for love. </em>
</p><p>Once he was puzzled about the strange song that she sang, but when the mercenary looked at her with the same look he gave him, there was something that made him loathe the song. Byleth never asked about it, neither did he and that mercenary ever speak of it. But even when he was with the woman, the man didn’t toss Byleth aside; in fact, it was all just the same.</p><p>Something inside him felt unnatural; that certain phenomena making the aroma of flowers on his ear too overwhelming, the up and down moving of the horse dizzying, the fingers on his hair feeling like flames against his scalp, the breathing against his ear too loud. It was the first time he felt as though he wanted to be another person except himself. </p><p>Seeing them dance in that godforsaken meeting hall of the village, Byleth sat alone as he stared blankly, wishing that he were the woman instead. When the mercenary left Jeralt to have a family of his own, Byleth doesn’t recall that he was brought somewhere out of Jeralt’s sight, and unlike every other meeting they had, he was given a kiss wherein he didn’t have to open his mouth, something that Byleth never understood even after he left and never saw him again.</p><p>It hurt more than Jeralt’s swings on the training sword, it felt as though he were being hit with something far worse. It’s unknown for how long it lasted, and for Byleth it felt like an eternity before they came back to Remire Village.</p><p>He doesn’t recall the time he came back. He doesn’t recall how miserable she looked. He doesn’t recall how the way she sobbed incessantly when she asked him to lay on his lap. He doesn’t recall the way he almost died the day her hands wrapped around his neck, screaming about how he took everything from her.</p><p>Jeralt saved him that time, he passed out before he could even see the look on his father’s face. He could only see her, eyes brimming with tears and the hint of gums above her teeth when she dug her fingers into his neck.</p><p>To think he had fallen in love with him, he would’ve ended up like that woman. So lost, so sad, so <em> broken </em>. He doesn’t recall how his slight happiness morphed into pure terror when she stroked his hair that day and when he was suddenly filled with vision of himself in the woman’s place.</p><p>He recalls only a fraction of the words. Only the words that haunted him up to present day that neither he or Sothis could decipher. </p><p>
  <em> He’s grown tired. Of me. Of you. Of us. You and I will never be enough. That’s why you don’t trust anyone— you don’t fall, my child. It’s bound to ruin everything in the end. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Because you will never be enough for anyone. </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>G a r l a n d  M o o n</em> </b>
</p><p>Byleth was starting to understand the algorithm of his job. Not only was he able to help his class on their first kills against a group of bandits in the last month, but he was beginning to understand how to manage himself in the monastery. </p><p>He continued to study other skills in the library and try to talk to the students if he had the chance to know them better even though he didn’t have that much interest in getting along with them. Seteth advised— forced him to do that and so did Jeralt.</p><p>“I was right to worry, but I suppose there’s no harm in getting along with those brats once in a while. I mean, think of it. One year with them,” he waves his hand,” and they’re gone just like that. You gotta inspire them with the time you have, kid. Shape them into good people for the future, ya know?” Jeralt says to him when Byleth admits that he felt uneasy during the celebration and the battle they had just recently.</p><p>Teaching people how to kill and watching them hesitate was certainly not easy for him. Sothis ordered him to turn back time when one of the students were bleeding out, and his energy was drained in the process. Everything was just beginning, and somehow it felt like it was already falling apart.</p><p>“I’ll be gone for another mission this month, so just keep doing your best. If you’re feeling uncomfortable, wait for me to come back. You know I’m always willing to listen.”</p><p>Just three months ago, he was always with Jeralt. Now, Jeralt was rarely in the monastery, out on missions around Fódland. It was difficult to do things without him. Quite lonely too, if he might add.</p><p>Apparently Byleth’s job didn’t only extend to conducting lectures and creating strategies in battles. He acquired another pastime other than fishing that he never knew he had the heart for until he tried it. Even though he wasn’t a devout believer of the religion, he sang with the choir in the cathedral. Byleth believed he wasn’t too horrible considering Dorothea’s quivering smile and Manuela’s pained expression.</p><p>For some reason, he was also tasked by people in the monastery, be it students, faculty, or maintenance personnel. And though he wasn’t instructed to, Byleth would take random items from any location; with a trial and error method he mastered for over two months already, he managed to get them back to their owners. People of Garreg Mach seemed to be losing their items all the time.</p><p>“Greetings, Professor! Nothing to report! I see you’re working hard again with those lost items. I would like to help you but sadly, I have to guard this entrance. If I set my eyes off it for a second, an intruder might sneak in...” A certain gatekeeper of Garreg Mach said apologetically when he saw Byleth struggling to balance a number of items he huddled close to his chest.</p><p>He walked around the monastery, accomplishing tasks and questioning people if they knew anything related to the month’s mission. Byleth spotted Ferdinand, a student of the Black Eagles, by the dorms.</p><p>He doddered over to the noble, wordlessly laying over the lost items he had found and saw if Ferdinand had owned anything from the strange stash. No person in Garreg Mach found it odd when Byleth did that since he’s been doing the same action for weeks.</p><p>“I’ve been looking for this!” Ferdinand says as he takes the bag of tea leaves. “You have the gratitude of Ferdinand von Aegir.” </p><p>Byleth nods and gathers the lost items to bring them back to their owners. Just when he was about to leave, Ferdinand gives him a startling order for him to wait before he rushes into his room, just to bring out a basket with an elegant tea set inside.</p><p>“In exchange for my bag of tea,” Ferdinand says, offering the tea set to Byleth.</p><p>“It’s alright. I already have your gratitude and that’s quite enough,” Byleth assures.</p><p>“Oh, but I insist. I have a lot more, so you can have this one. Go and have nice, warm tea with someone. Nearly everyone in Garreg Mach enjoys a bit of tea.” Being unable to refuse the noble, Byleth thanks Ferdinand and takes the tea set. </p><p>The tea set lay by the table top in his room. Nearly a week later, after a late night of checking test papers, he caught sight of the elegant tea set, dust starting to somewhat cling to the sides of the porcelain cups and plates. He thinks it’s such a waste for such a tea set to only serve as a mere display in his room. </p><p>So, Byleth decides to have tea the day after. He could hear Sothis giggle in his head, and they both knew who exactly he was going to ask for tea.</p><p>“I apologize, Professor. I’m afraid I’m unable to join you for tea today. I have some... urgent matters to attend to,” Dimitri excused himself. “Perhaps we could have some tea together some other time.</p><p>”Though he was quite crestfallen, Byleth asked someone else to have tea with him. This resulted in him having tea with Ashe; Byleth hoped that it would cheer the student up despite the issue of Lord Lonato rebelling against the church of Seiros. </p><p>Poor Ashe hadn’t been himself since he had heard the news. The thought of having to go against his stepfather bothered him, though Byleth never really gave much thought to it. They were to assess the aftermath of the battle only, not kill the culprit himself.</p><p>Though the first time he shared tea with a student was carried quite a heavy atmosphere, sharing tea with other students didn’t seem to cease after the first. He was always telling himself to stop indulging himself with their stories— it had come to the point that Sothis was just amused by the mere fact he was constantly going against himself. He was in the monastery to teach, not to sit idly with the students over a cup of tea and biscuits.</p><p>Over those sessions, he knew them better, and soon enough they opened up to him just like how any other friend would. In exchange for that though, they asked him questions just like he did. Where he came from, how old he was, if he wanted to go back to being a mercenary (or if he was simply forced into this job considering his nonexistent expression), if he had any favorite student or if he had any intimate relationship any of the knights in his battalion— basically questions that he avoided since he’ll be as vulnerable as they were to him.</p><p>“I’m sure you have a special someone who hears the heavens open when you sing. If not, I’m always willing to take that place,” Dorothea winks.</p><p>When they ask him, he’d take a sip from his tea, force an awkward laugh, or look away, partnering the actions with either, “I don’t know,” or “I don’t remember,” before asking the question back. A passive-aggressive tone that the students couldn’t decipher whether his memory didn’t serve him well or if he was simply dodging. </p><p>Regardless, Byleth refused to open up since it was never something he was supposed to do. Though he refused to say anything close for comfort during his tea sessions, he found himself unintentionally wanting to open himself up to Dimitri. </p><p>When they finally had tea together, a sickeningly familiar sensation overcame him when they spoke to one another. It was too comfortable and he couldn’t recall if it was the same feeling he had with someone before.</p><p>“Do you do this often with the other students too?” Dimitri asks him.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Just like with me? Everyday?”</p><p>“Um, yes.”</p><p>“Who then? Do you share tea with them more than I do with you?”</p><p>Byleth struggles to find the words to say. Sothis snickers, clearly amused with the situation, “Looks like you’ve gotten yourself cornered.”</p><p>He frowns but he thinks that it’s not bad to say the truth at this time. “You’re the student I share tea with… the most.”</p><p>Dimitri doesn’t say anything, but he’s caught off guard and flustered by Byleth’s words. Byleth felt somewhat strange. There was that feeling of just being vulnerable and liking it because he’s assured that it would be fine. </p><p>There’s no telling whether being unsure warned him or told him it was alright.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>Their mission this month was trivial since they were assigned to an aftermath, but Byleth made sure he taught his students, fixing their forms and enhancing their specialties— perhaps out of uneasiness that he might be demoted to a servant that had to clean up after the students. </p><p>Byleth also attempted to teach them topics out of their spectrum as an experiment of sorts. To put it simply, it was just another alternative since he wasn’t that confident with his other skills.</p><p>“Professor, I don’t understand why I need to learn this,” Sylvain groaned as he flipped the book to a close.</p><p>“It can be useful at times,” Byleth told him, flipping the book back open.</p><p>“Aren’t you going to teach me the lance? You said my form was wrong last week,” Sylvain complained, attempting to shut the book but Byleth placed his palm on the bridge of the book.</p><p>“Later. Reasoning first.” </p><p>“But Professor!” </p><p>“Professor?” Dimitri appeared out of nowhere in Byleth’s sight. It shocked Byleth, his palm flinching away from the book that Sylvain closed when he saw the open opportunity.</p><p>“Dimitri? Do you need anything?” Byleth asked.</p><p>“I was going to ask that you meet up with me later in the Knight’s Hall. I have some important matters to discuss with you,” says Dimitri.</p><p>“Yes, I’ll be there after classes,” Byleth says.</p><p>Dimitri doesn’t say anything else when he turns to leave. Sylvain gives a low whistle after, yet Byleth couldn’t really reprimand him for it because it didn’t have the luxury to cross his mind as he doesn’t notice the way his mouth ever so slightly gaped when he watched Dimitri leave the room. His hair turned a soft color of gold under the sunlight, and the cape changed to a much bluer color. </p><p>“You’re a mess,” Sothis chides in his head.</p><p>And he doesn’t even acknowledge her. He was too mesmerized and he couldn’t even notice until he heard someone clear their throat from the table in front of him. When he looks, he sees Sylvain with a frown, his arms akimbo, waiting for the lecture to begin so he could leave earlier.</p><p>“Oh,” Byleth realizes. “Right. Reasoning. Today, let’s begin with...” </p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>It was nearing evening when he went to meet Dimitri in the Knight’s Hall. Dimitri’s blue cape was facing him when he came in. With the click of Byleth’s heel, Dimitri turns towards him.</p><p>“Ah, I see you’ve made it, Professor,” Dimitri smiles. “I have a favor to ask of you.”</p><p>“What’s the favor? More training?” Byleth asks.</p><p>“It’s in regard to sword training.” Byleth’s eyes widened in confusion. Dimitri wasn’t into swordsmanship as far as he knew. “Oh, but not for myself. You see, well, I’ve been teaching swordsmanship to the orphans at the monastery for a while now.” </p><p>This was quite unexpected, but Byleth expected nothing less from the nobility of the prince. Though he did seem that way, Byleth couldn’t grasp the image of Dimitri getting along with children. It was downright odd. “How... unexpected,” Byleth blurted even though he was quite cautious of hurting the student’s feelings.</p><p>“I must agree. In all honesty, I’m not that great with children. They apparently witnessed our sparring the other day, then they started pestering me to teach them,” a small smile lingers on his face, “they were so earnest... I couldn’t help but oblige.” He crosses his arms over his chest and Dimitri gestures to Byleth, “Which brings me to my favor. I dislike bothering you like this, but will you consider lending me a hand?” </p><p>“When do you plan to do it?” Byleth asks.</p><p>“After classes if your schedule is free.”</p><p>Byleth did have plans to go to a faraway city right after classes had ended. Jeralt was on a mission, meaning there was no particular reason for him to stay. But Dimitri asked so genuinely, Byleth didn’t want to experience the burden of having to feel guilty for rejecting him. “Of course,” he said, “you can count on me.”</p><p>“Thank you, truly,” Dimitri beamed. “I am in your debt, Professor.”</p><p>A pause. “You know, all of these children have lost their families in war or in illness.” With an unsure look on his face, he rubs his neck, “This may sound quite boastful, but I feel as though it’s my responsibility to protect them.” He wasn’t looking at Byleth anymore, but the ground beneath them, “I, too lost... my parents without warning. In Duscur, I lost those people I loved the most....”</p><p>“Was there no one else?” Byleth asked quietly.</p><p>“I’m... afraid not. My birth mother got ill and died shortly after I was born. I don’t get along with my remaining relatives, but...” he brightens up a little bit, “but there were some outside the castle walls I was close to. Rodrigue for one was a great ally.”</p><p>It was but a foreign name to Byleth, but it brought Dimitri such joy that he just had to ask who this person was. “Rodrigue?”</p><p>“Oh, pardon me. I meant Lord Rodrigue. An old companion of my father’s, as well as the father of Felix. He’d visit the capital once in a while, and when he did, he’d take me out hunting or for long horse rides. Though it sounds quite ridiculous, I’d like to become like him one day. Someone who could help others." Then he places a hand on his chest, “Someone who could save a lost soul," he says softly.</p><p>Byleth looks at Dimitri. He thought that it must’ve been difficult for him to lose his family at such a young age, yet he was still willing to help people and choose the right path. There was just no evil within his intentions, yet why were his eyes so pale? A frightening pale blue color that was dulled through what it had seen. </p><p>Byleth wonders. He wonders what exactly he saw that day.</p><p>“Oh, please accept my apology for boring you with my life story. In any case, don’t forget your promise, Professor.” He walks towards the entrance of the Knight’s Hall. “I’m counting on you.” </p><p>Byleth nods, and just like that, Dimitri disappears from his sight once more.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>H o r s e b o w  M o o n</em> </b>
</p><p>A heavy atmosphere surrounded the monastery. The people either had poignant or troubled looks upon their faces; it was as if the entire Fódland was worried about the disappearance of one girl. Not that the situation wasn’t alarming, but the news spread as quick as a raging wildfire that set everyone to worry and panic about it. It was no doubt that Seteth was in the worst condition of all since his little sister was the one missing.</p><p>Their mission for the month was downright concerning: to find Flayn. Dimitri had already asked Byleth to seek information from anyone, and when he meant anyone, it meant leaving no stone unturned. Byleth complied of course, asking students, teachers, knights, and other people in Garreg Mach. In the midst of the dispute, Byleth was able to receive enough information to give Dimitri.</p><p>“Thank you, Professor. Jeritza, huh? I assumed there really was something odd about him from the very start; however, let’s confront him another day when he shows up in the training grounds. He doesn’t seem to be around today,” Dimitri says and Byleth agrees. “Speaking of training grounds, are we meeting up at the same time later, or do you have something else to attend to? I can always tell the children we have to postpone.”</p><p>“No, I don’t have anything later,” Byleth informs. </p><p>“Alright, Professor. I’ll see you later then.”</p><p>Byleth was no good with children either. He wasn’t able to talk much, Dimitri did the honor of doing so. Though he wasn’t able to speak to the children properly, they took a certain liking to him, gawking and commending him for his swordsman skills. Byleth glazed over at Dimitri and the student was staring at him with that look again. The look of pride closed over his features and the corners of his mouth turned up. It made Byleth’s face heat up, and he cursed at himself for such a peculiar reaction.</p><p>After quite some time, Byleth had taken his chances to rest when the rest of the attention was to Dimitri. He was letting them do some drills, all children following him intently except for one. The child’s tufts of dirty blonde hair bounced up and down when he jumped with giddy. Byleth was confused as to why, but it amused him somehow. It wasn’t the first time this child followed him when he took breaks, perhaps the kid took a certain liking to him.</p><p>“Aren’t you joining Dimitri?” Byleth asked.</p><p>The child bounced on the ledge and sat beside Byleth, his short legs swinging over the ledge, “Nah, I’m quite tired. His Highness’s drills are going to make my body ache again,” he groaned.</p><p>Byleth gives a light chuckle. Dimitri didn’t seem like the type to hold back in lectures, even if they were children. He looks back at Dimitri teaching the other children, thinking that perhaps he was too harsh and that he had to take over again. He doesn’t notice the child watching Byleth stare into the distance before asking him a question out of the blue, “Do you think we could stay like this forever?”</p><p>Byleth faces the child, “Whatever do you mean?”</p><p>“I just wish that everyday could be as peaceful as this, but Fódland never seems to be at peace. Mama and papa left me too soon. They told me to run when the bandits attacked our village. Only the goddess knows what happened to them,” he fumbles with the ends of his shirt. </p><p>“To run?” Byleth asks.</p><p>“I’m a refugee. There were other people like me— always running away, always hungry for food. When I ask the priests back in the cathedral if there’s a war, they say there’s none right now. Peace they say... but, is it really true as they say it is?”</p><p>Byleth thought hard, trying to search for an answer in his head. His eyes flickered to Dimitri then back to the child, a wave of thoughts suddenly overcoming his mind.</p><p>There were too many things that happened over the past months. Though his class had been winning in every mission they were tasked with, how much longer would their victories last? How would things be like in the future? What would be lost? Who would he lose?</p><p>
  <em> Drift through the flow of time... </em>
</p><p>Of course, he had the ability to turn back time by a little bit. The Divine Pulse was something he avoided using since its power was quite limited, it drained him of his energy if he wasn’t careful. But something tells him that it would be an ability that would deem itself much more useful in the future. He did use it at times, especially on the rare occasion his students would receive any life-threatening wounds. </p><p>It’s power was limited; only be able to go back to a certain time period in accordance to his state of mind. Regardless of its limits, Byleth already deemed it useful, so he never asked Sothis to turn back time more than it could. Perhaps with the power of the Divine Pulse, he could secure the peace of Fódland. </p><p>Though it never really crossed his mind, Byleth was positive he could.</p><p>“I think that peace is something that varies between us all. Peace isn’t equally given to us all— it isn’t quite fair, isn’t it?”</p><p>He pauses, trying to recall as much as he could. Trying to recall those words Jeralt said that made the knots unravel in his body.</p><p>“But don’t you worry,” Byleth assures the child, mimicking Jeralt’s tone when he spoke to him that way, “as long as Dimitri and I are here, we will always be here to guide you. Perhaps, one day in the future you’ll be able help us and eventually see true peace in Fódland. I’ll be sure of it.”</p><p>“You’ll be with His Highness when the time comes, won’t you?” The child asks, his stubby fingers grasping Byleth’s sleeve. </p><p>Would he? Would fate allow it?</p><p>“You’re not giving a child false hope, are you?” he hears Sothis tease.</p><p>“I believe— I hope so,” Byleth says, answering the child as his eyes train to Dimitri laughing along with the children, their training swords laying idly on the ground when they ran after each other; the orphans scampering away from Dimitri in boisterous laughter, only to be scooped up effortlessly by the prince who mirrored the exact joy on their faces.</p><p>Byleth wondered what Fódland would be like without its skirmishes, without its chaos, without its imperfections. Would they be able to smile like that everyday? Would they be able to grasp joy so easily? </p><p>Total peace was but a utopian thought, but Byleth couldn’t help but believe that it could be achieved one day. But then again, the sight before him would’ve never occurred. If the circumstances were to change, perhaps he wouldn’t have been a professor in Garreg Mach, he wouldn’t have met the students, he wouldn’t have to teach them how to kill people by their own hands. It was all so absurd, yet Byleth doesn’t seem to feel that fate led him to all of this in the midst of the chaos.</p><p>Though he was still unsure whether the chaos is what brought them closer. Or further apart.</p><p> The child continues to cling onto him and Byleth pulls the child closer. </p><p>“Fódland’s future...” Byleth murmured to himself thoughtlessly.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>Their practice session eventually ended. The children had scampered back to their quarters, leaving Byleth and Dimitri to tend to the clean up. The alleged clean up session turned to a friendly spar when the prince swung the wooden sword at the professor to test his reflexes, and just like every weapon he’s dodged, Byleth swiftly lunges back when he hears the air slice in front of him. He then charges forward, twisting Dimitri’s arm down as the sword falls from his grasp, then kicks his shoulder forcefully. The impact makes the prince lose his equilibrium but not enough for him to fall backwards, instead, it just causes him to breathe out a laugh.</p><p>“You don’t play fair, Professor,” Dimitri gives a light chuckle as he takes another stray wooden sword from the ground.</p><p>A click, then Byleth’s coat slips from his shoulders. He places it by the ledges of the training hall and takes a training sword from the ground as Dimitri did. “I did nothing but imitate you,” Byleth shrugs. He does a sudden sprint towards Dimitri, swinging the sword as though it would target Dimitri’s shoulders, once the student sees that, he slides lower and strikes the sword on his shin. </p><p>“Eugh—“ Dimitri winces.</p><p>“You have to read my actions more.“</p><p>“I don’t think swordsmanship works… this way,” Dimitri reasons. </p><p>“Well, I don’t recall this being fair play,” Byleth counters, turning the sword by its handle and getting ready for another strike. Dimitri breathes out a fond chuckle that makes Byleth’s chest hurt a bit. Just like that, they spar with no bounds, using their legs, magic, fists, and any means to land a hit on each other. Byleth gets a couple of bruises, feeling like his bones would break every time Dimitri would successfully hit him; though in the end, he wins after flinging a fire orb at Dimitri when he least anticipated it. The persistent student finally collapses on the floor.</p><p>He laughs, “You're looking pretty bruised over there, Professor.”</p><p>“I don’t think I’m as bruised as you are,” Byleth shoots back with a sensation tugging on the corner of his lips.</p><p>They really clean up after. Dimitri cursed at himself for breaking another couple of swords in their session today, he was carelessly placing adhesives to stick the parts together. As a result, it would clatter by his feet and he’d grunt in frustration. </p><p>It was formidable seeing Dimitri breaking wooden swords, more so when they crumble under the force of his one hand. Strangely, he was able to spar with him without breaking them before they even finished the fight. A stray thought of his bones cracking under a mere grip of Dimitri’s fingers made him freeze for a second, though considering he was able to survive today made him feel a bit better. </p><p>“I’ll just get you another sword in the market,” Byleth told Dimitri as he took the broken sword from the floor.</p><p>Dimitri sighed defeatedly, “Alright. Putting that aside, thank you for your help again, Professor. Allow me to express my gratitude by taking you to dinner.”</p><p>As if on cue, Byleth felt his stomach grumble. “That would be great.”</p><p>“Fantastic,” Dimitri beamed. “I’ll treat you whatever you’d like to eat. Such outstanding skill must work up quite an appetite... What dishes do you favor anyway? Allow me to guess… brie, I assume? Though my taste is quite dull, I reckon you’d favor such a dish because of its intriguing taste and—“</p><p>“I find brie alright,” Byleth cuts, knowing that Dimitri would start unconsciously blabbing about his favorite dish. “The sautéed fish might be a better choice though if my stomach won’t take it.”</p><p>“It’s a shame you can’t eat such a delicacy indelibly. Well, regardless of your food choices, your skills remain prodigious.”</p><p>“But you’re not so bad yourself,” Byleth says.</p><p>‘I’ve studied swordsmanship for sometime, but they don’t compare to your mercenary skills at all. Speaking of which... there’s something I wanted to ask of you.”</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“It’s an arbitrary question. Were you reconciled with the reality of battle on your first combat? I mean, more on the... killing side of things.”</p><p>He recalls a vague memory from an unknown time period. He’s on the battlefield, complying to the orders Jeralt had given him, cutting the enemies throats open, thrusting his sword in their chests until blood began to dribble down their mouths.</p><p>Byleth recollected it to be just one of the many battles he had as a mercenary, not really knowing much before that. “I hadn’t the luxury of thinking about it,” Byleth admitted. Dimitri stays silent, so he throws the question back. “How about you?”</p><p>“I do wish I had your way of thinking, but no... I do not carry that burden well. I doubt that it will change, no matter how many years come and go.” Dimitri has a far off look on his face, “The first time I led on the battlefield, I was to quell a rebellion in the west. It wasn’t a difficult fight, really. A swing of the lance, your opponent falls. A flash of your blade, and a path opens up…”</p><p>Anyone could sense it. Sothis tells him quietly that there’s something wrong. The wavering of Dimitri’s voice; so mellifluous, and so forlorn. “What’s bothering you?” Byleth asks.</p><p>Dimitri tenses, then relaxes as he weighs the decisions before him. After a few seconds of silence, he speaks, “I don’t know why it came over me again but I... I recall coming across a dead soldier’s body. He held a locket in his hand, and inside that very locket was a lock of golden hair.”</p><p>He crossed his arms over his chest, “He was an enemy. But in that very moment, I realized he was a person, just like the rest of us. When we seek justice, we take the lives of cherished people— people who are loved dearly by others. I know that killing is part of what I do, but I can’t help but feel chilled to the bone after realizing my own decadence.”</p><p>Once, Byleth perhaps felt the same way. For a moment, he watched Jeralt tear a man’s arm off with his bloody, silver lance; an unknown illusion that was probably another piece to his fragmented memories. It sent a shiver slithering down his spine, but then disappeared quickly. It was a strange sensation, yet he couldn’t bring himself to think about it too much. </p><p>“I think I’ve felt that way once,” Byleth admits. He chooses not to go in depth.</p><p>Dimitri finally looks at him again, a small smile lingering on his lips, “That you feel the same way is more comforting to me than you know.” </p><p>There’s a slight pause before Dimitri speaks once again. “Professor? May I... be blunt?”</p><p>Hesitantly, Byleth gives him a nod. The expression on Dimitri’s face had changed. </p><p>“Do you not make any other expressions? Well— er, I suppose that was a bit too blunt, however, I just want to know whether you’re alright with all of,” he gestures to his surroundings, “this. And, well. Us. The Blue Lions.”</p><p>He finds himself unable to say anything. </p><p>Of course his expressionlessness would eventually lead to their distrust in him. No matter how much tea he’d share with them, if he didn’t know how to express himself, they’ll never really trust. Byleth wants to let out something he couldn’t quite express ever since; as if it was locked away in his body. No matter how hard he tried, it was too dull, perhaps too weak for him; like his own feelings never really being his, nor his own body.</p><p>“I find it... difficult to express my words through my expressions, but believe me, I am sincere with you all.”</p><p>He held his breath, trying to picture his own expression when he spoke. Byleth slightly cringes as he waits for Dimitri’s response. </p><p>Silence. Then a burst of laughter.</p><p>“For—Forgive me, Professor. You don’t have to be so... so serious,” Dimitri wipes the stray tears from his eyes. “It’s... adorable.”</p><p>Byleth looks down, an odd heat beginning to form on his face. “Don’t... tease me.”</p><p>“My apologies,” Dimitri reddens, realizing his own actions of teasing his own professor.</p><p>Byleth looks away, quite ashamed. “I wouldn’t really know what face I’m making,” he admitted. “I would appreciate it if you’d try to understand me.”</p><p>Dimitri chuckles slightly. “Of course, Professor.”</p><p>That night, Byleth stared at the mirror for a long time to practice expressions as Sothis critiqued him.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t long until they found clues to Flayn’s disappearance. By the final week of the month, Byleth and the rest of the Blue Lions decided to confront Jeritza, only to find a collapsed Professor Manuela in his room. This left everyone shocked, unable to move until Professor Hanneman entered and acted quickly. He ordered Dimitri to help him bring Manuela all the way to the infirmary. With a slight glint of uneasiness in his eye, Dimitri looked at Byleth, then left with Hanneman as he took Manuela from under her arms. </p><p>Before she was taken away, Manuela hinted at a secret passage that eventually led Byleth and the rest of the Blue Lions to enter a dark alley leading to the underground of Garreg Mach. There they found the two girls lying on the ground, one who wasn’t a familiar face to Byleth, and the other who was recognizable as Flayn. They couldn’t take the girls immediately, since the infamous Death Knight loomed over them as they examined the area. There was only one way to escape, and that was to fight. </p><p>Fighting without the house leader for the first time was quite uncomfortable, yet the battle ended with their usual victory even though Death Knight had disappeared together with the Flame Emperor— who appeared for a while. There was no use fighting them now, Byleth thought that this wasn’t the time to confront them just yet. They brought the two girls to the infirmary and the class gathered as one back on the upper ground.  </p><p>“I’m... I’m just glad they’re alive!” Mercedes exclaimed, worry etched on her expression.</p><p>“You found Flayn? Thank goodness!” Dimitri called out from afar. When he reached them, he looked at the unconscious girls, sighing in relief. Byleth notices the sweat rolling down his jaw, he thinks about how Dimitri must’ve come as fast as he could. </p><p>“Yeah, we found her unconscious by the entrance of the secret passage. The culprits too, but they got away,” Annette says.</p><p>“There’s no use dwelling on it though. We didn’t anticipate this battle anyway,” Byleth adds.</p><p>“I’m just grateful that everyone’s here and safe. That’s what matters most,” Dimitri says as he gives a half-smile. “I’d like to hear what happened but let’s get them to the infirmary first.”</p><p>“We will take care of it, Your Highness,” Dedue bows.</p><p>The rest of the students assist each other in bringing the unconscious ladies to the infirmary. Byleth watched them as they went, relieved that no casualties had happened to any of them despite the troubles and the fact that they were unready. He wanted to keep them safe no matter what; if anything were to happen to them, he wouldn’t know what to do. He gave a small sigh of relief and watched them work together until they left, leaving Dimitri and Byleth in the room.</p><p>“I couldn’t be any happier with how things turned out,” Dimitri mused, “I’ll bet that no one would be more overjoyed than Seteth himself.”</p><p>“Mhm,” Byleth hums in agreement.</p><p>“Oh!” Dimitri exclaims, strangely tensing before he was patting himself down and shuffling through the pockets of his uniform. “How could I almost forget…” he grumbles to himself before taking an item from his pocket.</p><p>“Happy birthday, Professor,” Dimitri hands Byleth a badge. It’s a lion of blue growling with such vigor as its shiny silver canines coruscated under the light of the room. “I was supposed to give this to you earlier, but we got caught up in some unfortunate events… so here. This is a symbol of my— well, the Blue Lion’s gratitude to you. I know it’s nothing much, but I hope you will accept it.”</p><p>Byleth’s at a loss for words.</p><p>“Ah, um, let me put it on for you…” Byleth doesn’t notice that he’s been gawking at Dimitri the entire time.</p><p>“I don’t know whether calling you an idiot or a fool would suffice…” Sothis says, and Byleth chooses to ignore her.</p><p>Though he kept his mouth shut this time, his shock didn't subside when he could feel the student’s faint touches on his chest; his fingers fumbling over the fabric of his robes and the badge’s pin. Byleth suddenly remembered he was no good with anything small and fragile.</p><p>When Dimitri manages to finish, Byleth sees the badge over his chest, his hand touching the cervices of the cold metal and the tough fabric beneath. It had completely slipped his mind that it was his birthday. </p><p>Not that he could recall his other birthday celebrations, but this one made him lightheaded— lightheaded in a way that he enjoyed it. Somehow, there was no comprehending what he was feeling but Sothis hissed, <em> “At least thank him, you fool!” </em> before he could prolong his unspoken silence due to his utter shock.</p><p>“Thank you, Dimitri. I’m very… I’m very grateful.”</p><p>“Hm? Professor? Can you make that expression one more time?”</p><p>Byleth wasn’t too sure about what Dimitri was talking about, making him quite hesitant. He didn’t even know he was making an expression in the first place. With the warmth rushing from the tips of his toes to cheeks, he faces Dimitri. “Like... this?”</p><p>He lifts the corners of his mouth bashfully but his lips curve into a sincere smile. He practiced it a lot, though he can imagine he was as red as the tomatoes they sold at the marketplace. Dimitri’s eyes fall to his lips.</p><p>The prince’s jaw goes slack. “I... I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face like that.”</p><p>Byleth looks away and places a hand to his mouth to cover it completely from Dimitri’s sight. “I’m making an effort, alright?” Dimitri lips curve oddly and Byleth frowns, “What?”</p><p>Dimitri mirrors his embarrassed expression, blushing harder than he was, “I’m sorry. I’ve come dangerously close to teasing you. Again. I must’ve forgotten myself for a moment there. It’s just... I’ve never seen you make that face. It’s downright mesmerizing.”</p><p>A vague memory passes. Perhaps he was younger than he was now, someone who listened to the stories told by villagers of Remire village during Jeralt’s mercenary expeditions. Jeralt would have a drink in hand, letting out a red-faced guffaw with a man of gray, as Byleth laid his head on a maiden’s lap, her fingers brushing through his hair, untangling his locks as she spoke to her friends. </p><p>He overheard their stories about destinies, how there was always going to be one person you would always be with, no matter what time or world you are born in. When one sees that certain person who shares the same destiny, there’s a feeling that can’t be described with words alone. It was a legend, it was absurd, however Byleth found himself reminiscing about those fragments of stories scattered in his mind. </p><p>Perhaps what he felt was destiny through every soul… perhaps his destiny intertwined with Dimitri’s. </p><p>
  <em> Don’t fall, my child. </em>
</p><p>Perhaps it was just nothing at all.</p><p>Byleth forgot whose words they came from, but he knew it was definitely not Jeralt’s. The fondness in his eyes when he spoke about his deceased mother already proved that those words would never come from his mouth; he wasn’t afraid of being so fond over someone, and he was so in love that he got hurt in the end of it all. </p><p>His head aches dully, and he could hear Sothis groan because of it. A wave of nausea hits him and fills his vision with the lips of a man, his arms reaching out and pulling them closer before they fade into dust then whisked away by the wind. Byleth couldn’t look at Dimitri, afraid of what’s to come if he looked too long. Dimitri’s burning stare turned uncomfortable. </p><p>Having noticed Byleth’s discomfiting look though it wasn’t quite obvious, Dimitri decides to switch the subject, “Ah, we might as well share the good news with Seteth. Let’s go, Professor.” </p><p>Following Dimitri to the chamber, Byleth tried to think away from what had happened. He regrets having practiced expressions and he felt as if he was being dragged into an endless pit of unknown emotions.</p><p>“What are you feeling?” Byleth hears Sothis’s voice</p><p>He doesn’t answer. Not because he can’t. </p><p>But because he doesn’t want to.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>Jeralt’s out on another expedition, so he goes to town the night after on a weekend. Not to buy anything, not to fix any weapons, not to even pass by the market. He goes out to fix himself, to drink and to feel relief after being so exhausted about almost everything in the monastery. It’s been quite a while and Dimitri decided to give the children a break from the lessons, so he decides to go out that day. And when he goes out, he goes to a far away city because it was his break the next day.</p><p>And it was his birthday after all.</p><p>Jeralt apologizes to him since he couldn’t celebrate his birthday with him, but Byleth didn’t mind. They both didn’t know how old they were anyway.</p><p>Going out to a faraway town was a tough habit to break, but it’s something he’s done for the longest time, or at least something he’s done for as long as he could remember. Being a mercenary brought him various places around Fódland, cities filled with different kinds of people who taught him all sorts of things. He’d pick up their lifestyles here and there, and even if he was socially gauche, people happened to be so fond of him. Perhaps they were simply fond of the fact that he had quite the look, or fond of his stoic, emotionless mannerisms.</p><p>Perhaps they were also fond of him because he was easy to take to bed.</p><p>Byleth doesn’t recall any of his previous partners; whether they were men or women alike, it didn’t really matter to him. Though the ones he would vaguely remember are of men, their faces blurred when he faces up due to the alcohol that swirls and fogs his head. He doesn’t recall how it began, or why he never told his father. Once, he asked Sothis if she could recall how this certain habit began, but she frowned instead.</p><p>Though he was comfortable with Sothis in his head, there was no denying that it was quite discomfiting to think that she was there, awake and watching when he’s doing those acts with other people. She simply told him she was always asleep while he did it, but little did she know that he could feel her very awake.</p><p>“Why?” she asked once. Sothis didn’t have to further reiterate the question for Byleth to understand.</p><p>“I don’t know,” Byleth said. “Would you recall?”</p><p>“No. Why do you think I’m asking you, you fool?”</p><p>“Do you know what it feels like to be so lifeless and so alive at the same time?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Me neither. But if I were to define that feeling in my own way, it would be this.”</p><p>Sothis became silent after that. There were no words to say because it all concluded to one answer anyway. The dullness, the vagueness, inscrutability of their lives. </p><p>All they wanted was to feel alive.</p><p>He enters a tavern in the narrow streets of the small town Varley and it’s a cacophony place he’s grown accustomed to ever since he stayed in Garreg Mach. Bearded men guffawing with pink-tinted cheeks, the sounds of glass clicking against one another, large mugs banging on the platform, spilling the sweet aroma of alcohol with a hint of the wooden panels of the furniture— everything was similar in every tavern no matter what town he was in. Everything was all so similar, yet he could never remember the exact details no matter how many times he’s been there. </p><p>Byleth sits where the bartender’s the nearest and lays the pebbles of gold on the counter. The man gives him a smile, knowing immediately what Byleth would be getting through non-verbal communication; he’s taking a steel mug and laying it beneath the valve of the wooden keg, filling it with beer until the liquid reaches its brim as the foam juts over its top. </p><p>“Thank you,” Byleth says as he takes the mug and chugs the liquid, the alcohol running hot in his throat. It’s something he picked up from Jeralt, though his tolerance was way lower than his. Once you get the drink, you take it in all at once! You won’t get hit that way, he told him. That technique did quite the opposite to him, yet he did it still since he was fond of the way his head felt lighter.</p><p>“You’ve been coming back for quite a while,” the bartender says fondly. “I might just call you the loyal customer around here.”</p><p>“Quite flattered,” Byleth says. And the bartender laughs.</p><p>“Got a job around town?”</p><p>“A mercenary. Nothing much,” he dismisses.</p><p>“Ah, so you must be all around. I'm sure you’re familiar with the Blade Breaker who finally came back to the Knights of Seiros, yeah?”</p><p>“Mhm.”</p><p>“Wonder what became of his son... perhaps a part of the Knights too?”</p><p>“Perhaps.” Byleth licks the foam dripping from the sides of the mug.</p><p>When they’re having their usual conversation, that’s when people begin to take their seats beside him, sometimes one by one, or even more at a time. They slowly merge into the conversation, their voices beginning to rise over his and his speech fading into the background. When they’re busy exchanging words, he chugs his drink down and pushes the glass forward for another one. The time his mind dissociates with the actions of his body, when the world is finally spiraling and his half lidded sight is blurring with slight penumbras, he knows it’s the right time. It’s the right time since there’s always someone he catches staring right back at him; they shared the same look as if they knew exactly what they wanted from each other.</p><p>“Can you stand?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Byleth assures in his slightly drunken state. “Yeah, I’m fine.”</p><p>They tap his shoulder lightly and Byleth looks up at the stranger. A merchant, he thinks, with soft features for his face. That’s what he liked about the location of the tavern, how new people come and go since the town was a trade center for all three countries. So far, he hadn’t spent the night with the same person ever since his stay.</p><p>To think that he’d want such a thing from him was almost unbelievable. He looked quite innocent, it made Byleth want to refuse the man, and himself to relieve him from guilt. But it was too late as he’s standing and being supported by the man he was going to spend the night with. </p><p>There’s always rooms behind every tavern as they’re often used and free for all guests unless they choose an overnight. A bed and a bathroom was all there was in every room— it was the same for nearly every town in Fódland and Byleth was all too familiar about it. When he’s on the bed, he hears the door creaking to a close and it’s lock clicking almost after. He’s fumbling at his jacket, trying to find the hinges that click them open to remove his armor, but the man guides him with steady fingers. Byleth finds it quite unfair that he’s not inebriated as he was, but then again, he was always bringing these helpless situations unto himself.</p><p>His cloak and armor is off, then he’s caressed on the cheek and kissed. They trail lower, the lips and his jaw, then they go lower to his neck and there’s a hint of teeth on his collar bones. Succumbing into the sensation, Byleth flutters his eyes shut. His mouth is gaped, panting to the pleasure he’s feeling together with the alcohol that made his senses heightened and so dulled at the same time. At this moment, he pictures something in his head as he slips his fingers through the man’s hair.</p><p>A lance. Leather gloves. Golden hair. His eyes. His voice. His lips. </p><p>His hands.</p><p>His hands that roam around his body, fingers wrapping against his waist as his breath blows on his warm skin. Byleth shivers to the touch, giving into the ecstasy of being able to feel overwhelmed, it made him feel so authentic and perhaps so alive. He’s drifting in delectation as he’s rocked at a steady pace, he sees his piercing blue eyes when he’s facing up.</p><p>
  <em> You like that, don’t you Professor? </em>
</p><p>Byleth whines and it stops. “A-Are you alright?”</p><p>“Huh?” </p><p>“Did I hurt you? It’s fine with me if we stop here.”</p><p>“Oh no, no,” Byleth shaking his head before being snapped into the reality of being quite sober. “You just... “ <em> reminded me of someone </em>, he was supposed to say but bit the inside of his cheek instead. “You just hit the spot. I was caught off guard.”</p><p>“Ah, that’s great. I’ll continue then.</p><p>Byleth didn’t close his eyes after that and held onto the shoulders of the man above him. He pants but he doesn’t utter a word, afraid that he’d say the name he dared never to say in such a state.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>update will probably be around next week monday. hope you guys stick around for it yayay.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“We went out on a supply run and I was rekindled with the memory of our first dance. When he offered his hand, I didn’t refuse him today as I did then. He was skilled as I was not, but when I dance with him, I feel like I could move gracefully to any sound of music.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>— written in an orphan‘s notebook, retrieved from the King’s quarters</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>apologies for the late update. my computer decided to die in the middle of editing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b> <em>B l u e  S e a  M o o n</em> </b>
</p><p>The Blue Lions were to go up against the two other houses in Gronder Field. It’s no surprise that most of his students asked for extra lessons and drills to prepare themselves for the big event of the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. The students aren’t the only ones enthusiastic as the other people of Garreg Mach have begun settling bets. Byleth was given the opportunity to join the bet, but he refused. </p><p>Though the big event of the Battle of the Eagle and Lion was the current talk of the monastery, there was also a fishing competition that interrupted Byleth’s weekly fishing routine. Often in solitude when fishing, Byleth usually enjoyed the silence as he pierced a delicious bait for the fish to eat. Some students of the monastery knew him for spending his monthly salary on expensive bait.</p><p>Not that he minded, but having that impression on students was quite odd.</p><p>The silence disappeared because of that event, and he had no choice but to fish with the boisterous, endless chatter of students. It wasn’t too irritating as they offered him challenges that he ended up taking anyway. They challenged him to catch fish of a certain quality in exchange for certain things he didn’t really need, but he complied anyway since they wouldn’t stop harassing him. </p><p>Especially Flayn, who’s eyes were boring through the back of his coat. Byleth handed a silverfish to her, and thankfully, the fish was good enough to make her eyes sparkle.</p><p>“Thank you, Professor! I am forever in your debt,” she exclaimed with an overwhelming amount of glee before scampering away, most likely to bring the fish to the kitchen.</p><p>Byleth watched her go, grateful that he wasn’t being watched anymore. He was relieved until another voice came from behind. “I didn’t know you were skilled, not only in strategy and weapons, but fishing. You never cease to amuse, Professor.”</p><p>Turning abruptly, Byleth faces Dimitri, who seems to be much closer than ever, their faces only inches apart. Much to his surprise, Byleth steps back quickly, unable to look Dimitri in the eye. The blonde boy smiled at him and stood before him with a knowing look on his face.</p><p>“You... you said you weren’t going to tease me anymore,” Byleth stammered.</p><p>“Oh, but that was not my intention! I just passed by to comment on your fishing. Skills like that deserve compliments you see.”</p><p>Byleth was at a loss for words and Sothis let out a laugh. Dimitri gives him an earnest smile as he bends down and looks at the pail of fish Byleth has caught. He comments about how there was some rare fish in there, but Byleth could hear nothing but the loud thumping in his ears as he watched Dimitri. It rang in his ears, and though it was nearing winter, his skin was burning.</p><p>Byleth abruptly snags the pail from Dimitri’s sight. “Professor?”</p><p>“I-I’m going to the market. I’m done fishing for today. Sorry.”</p><p>Dimitri waves a hand, “Oh that’s alright, Professor. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”</p><p>Byleth turns to leave the pond, walking away without looking back.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>Byleth stared mindlessly at the cracks on the floor as the merchant calculated the value of the fish that he handed over.  It took a while before the heat and the sound of his ears eventually died down. </p><p>“—ir, sir!"</p><p>Byleth looks at the merchant. “Yes?”</p><p>“Your change, Sir,” the merchant states, his fist full of coins hanging in the air towards Byleth. </p><p>“Oh.” Byleth takes the money and retreats to his quarters.</p><p>It was exhausting. Not being able to understand such circumstances. It was as if he were always left in the dark of things. It was certainly confusing and irritating; Byleth never seemed to give it some thought until they developed over time. </p><p>Somehow like the seeds in the greenhouse, except Byleth never planted them in the first place. It grew more and more, and perhaps Byleth was the one unconsciously promoting the growth of these plants that he never wanted. There was so much to do in being a professor, yet he was thinking about something that might seem so… trivial.</p><p>It was simply confusing, perhaps a bit pathetic of him. </p><p>He reached his quarters when Sothis began to speak. “You’re awful in hiding things like this,” she stated bluntly. “You’re a wreck.”</p><p>Byleth stays silent and sits on the edge of his bed. He doesn’t understand and he honestly didn’t want to confuse himself any further, so he shakes his head in an attempt to act as if it were nothing.</p><p>“Don’t even attempt to deny it. I can feel it, you know,” Sothis says softly. “Your confusion, your anger, your irritation, your longing— even your horrid hangovers. Your senses are mine as well, so I can tell if something is wrong or not.” </p><p>Byleth couldn’t say anything, so he stared mindlessly across the room. “They’re much clearer now. The emotions inside you are making you agitated, yet you know very well what they are. You’re lost because you do not want to admit it to yourself.”</p><p>“Admit what?”</p><p>Sothis gives an irritated groan in reply, “Ugh! Must you be so helpless all the time? Must you keep these feelings to yourself when I can literally feel what you are feeling? I am no child in your head. Yes, there is still much I do not understand— much I cannot remember, but I know I can help you with at least this much since I am stuck with you after all. You don’t have to tell anyone else, you can simply just tell me.”</p><p>Byleth hesitates, “Tell you...” </p><p>“Must I really spell it out for you?” Sothis deadpanned.</p><p>There was no use denying it any further. She was in his head, and she knew everything. They were on the same page now, one who knew the answer and the other who dared not to speak it.</p><p>“What you feel with those other men, it’s different from what you feel with Dimitri. I can sense your affection...”</p><p>Affection. A word that registered so vaguely, yet so clearly in his head. </p><p>“when you are with him,” Sothis continues.</p><p>Of course she was talking about Dimitri, the only person he ever felt strange with from the very beginning. </p><p>“I’m not—”</p><p>“You’re in love.”</p><p>Then it takes him back. It was as if the Divine Pulse took him back four months into the monastery’s cemetery where he discovered that was where his mother lay. Jeralt stood with her ring resting on his palm. </p><p>
  <em> ... someone you love, as much as I loved her. </em>
</p><p>Then a vision appears in his head, that lavender ring resting on top of a hand that isn’t Jeralt’s. Byleth blinks twice to snap out then breaks into a sweat. The words stay stuck in his throat. In the past. In a forgotten memory.</p><p>“I just don’t understand.” </p><p>Byleth waits for Sothis to chide him and call him a child because he didn’t know what was holding him back. He waits. But it doesn’t come.</p><p>“I’m afraid this is also something I do not understand. There’s just something bothering me— well, you.”</p><p>Byleth thought about it numerous times in his head, and he’s sure that Sothis knows about it. There was no telling what would come next once he would say the words. Perhaps, if they felt the same, Dimitri would stay for a while. Just a while, just for a fleeting moment until he disappears from his grasp. </p><p>The gray locks and the woman’s pleads. Her tears and words they...</p><p>They made him afraid.</p><p>“What are you afraid of?” Sothis asks.</p><p>“The fact that I can’t produce an heir for him when he becomes king,” Byleth answers. He could feel the heat of Sothis’s glare. She already knew.</p><p>“What are you <em> afraid </em> of?” She repeats. Byleth couldn’t bring himself to answer immediately. As much as he didn’t want to admit that he constantly avoided or forced himself never to think about it, he was filled with fear even when his emotions were dull. The fact that he tries not to entertain the thought was already enough to prove he was afraid.</p><p>Sothis pities him. Either way, she already had an inkling of what it was, so she doesn’t push him any further. “It’s alright. You need not force yourself.”</p><p>“I don’t get why it’s difficult for me to say anything about it.” </p><p>“It is not like you speak much in the first place,” Sothis scoffs. “Regardless, I think that you should tell him.”</p><p>“But why? You don’t have an idea of what’s holding me back... unless, you recall the past? Or you could see the future?”</p><p>“You fool. I can barely remember anything from years ago. And for the future… it is but a sense I feel.”</p><p>“Are your senses true for what’s to come?” </p><p>“That I do not know... it is not in my power to know what is to come. Just like you, I’m blind to the sight of the future.”</p><p>Byleth sighs, “Then why do you want me to say what I feel?”</p><p>Sothis giggles, “Because I postulate he feels the same way as you. I know you are pondering upon the risks, but you have not reached that point yet, have you not? You have been thinking too much, when these things are to be thought of once it happens.”</p><p>“There’s just too many risks,” Byleth says perturbedly. Too many things to be wary of, he fails to add.</p><p>“Each battle is also a risk, yet you still manage to get through them, hm? I’m not forcing you because it is not my choice to make, but yours alone.”</p><p>“So you imply that confessing is a battle?” Byleth makes a pitiful attempt to jest. He could envision her looking so cross with him.</p><p>“Okay, I just— I don’t know. I still don’t understand why you’re so persistent about it,” Byleth mumbles. Sothis could just begin chiding for being so indecisive, for acting like a guilty child who was on the verge of blurting a scandalous secret. </p><p>Instead she breathes out a yawn, “Do not fret. In time... you will... ” another yawn, “you will understand. Perhaps not now, but... you will know as the time goes by.”</p><p>She was falling asleep, but Byleth wanted to understand sooner. He disliked the feeling of being so... helpless. “But how? How will I understand?”</p><p>“Let the strings of... fate and time inter... twine. Have faith… in yourself. Perhaps… perhaps… he’ll…” then there was silence. </p><p>There was no use waking her up after that. Byleth reflected on what Sothis had said, slightly cursing at himself because there was a big battle to be won by the end of the month when he was thinking selfishly about his own dilemma.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>“What do I think about him? About the little prince of Faerghus?” Jeralt asks and Byleth nods wordlessly.</p><p>“Well... he is princely and noble— a little too stiff in my opinion, but I think he’s a genuine kid and that’s what really matters. I have to admit though I’m more fond of that grouchy young lady more than him.”</p><p>“Edelgard?”</p><p>“Yeah. She’s a fighter. You could almost see the fire in her eyes.”</p><p>Byleth hums in agreement, even when he doesn’t really know anything.</p><p>“I have something else I was going to ask you.”</p><p>“What were you going to ask me?”</p><p>“I’ve been meaning to ask you how... how...”</p><p>“How what?”</p><p>“How you, you know...” Byleth scratches at the back of his neck.</p><p>“Mhm?”</p><p>“Ah... how you...”</p><p>“C’mon kid, just spit it out.”</p><p>
  <em> “Fellinlove.” </em>
</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I was just going to ask you how to fall.”</p><p>“Fall?”</p><p>“Yes. Because Sylvain keeps making fun of my dodges. He says I fall like a carp out of the pond. It’s humiliating as a professor.”</p><p>“Oh... I thought it was something serious because you were so hesitant.”</p><p>Byleth looks away and Jeralt laughs, “Not used to being made fun of, are you? Cheer up, kid. I’ll show you how to dodge properly.” He stands but he turns to Byleth again, “You need me to, you know,” he brings a fist to his palm.</p><p>“No,” Byleth shakes his head. “Please don’t beat him up, he’s my student.”</p><p>Jeralt laughs, “Learn to take a joke, kid. Though... never thought I’d hear you say that.”</p><p>Byleth didn’t think he would either.</p><p>He spends the afternoon learning the same dodges he knew very well, regretting the fact that he wasn’t able to ask Jeralt properly.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>Byleth managed to avoid getting his foreign feelings in the way of his work, and before he even knew it, the day Battle of the Eagle and Lion had come. Blue Lions as well as the rest of the two other classes were ready, their battalions and weapons nearby on the grassy plain of Gronder. </p><p>“Are you ready, Professor?” Dimitri asks, his stance alert, and the lance held firmly in his hand. Dimitri’s hair catches the wind, his blonde locks leisurely flowing in the direction. They were about to begin the battle, yet Byleth caught himself stuck in a daze once more. </p><p>It certainly wasn’t fair at all. How could he look so... stunning at such a time. Byleth squirms at his thoughts when his hand comes in contact with the handle of the sword by his hip. He then realized the weight of the Sword of the Creator and gripped its handle.</p><p>Battle. Yes. They were in battle. </p><p>He finally responds to Dimitri, “Of course I’m ready.”</p><p>Though a number of his students had to retreat by the latter part of the battle, the fate of the battle was decided upon by the last two house leaders: Dimitri and Edelgard. With his hands tied with Hubert, Byleth refused to let any other foe disrupt Dimitri. And with a couple swings of Dimitri’s lance, he was able to force Edelgard to retreat, resulting in another victory for the Blue Lions.</p><p>It was a joyous occasion. Blue Lions students in and out of the battle field gathered together in pure bliss for their victory despite their fatigue. Byleth watched them with a smile on his face, an overwhelming feeling that he couldn’t really seem to conceal at this point. Never in his life did he think that he’d be overjoyed over seeing people with genuine smiles on their faces. </p><p>No, they weren’t just any group of people to him, but they were his students. They were students under his guidance. It’s fine seeing them rejoice from afar, though there was this aching sensation that made him long to be a part of that crowd. </p><p>He’d be together with his students, smiling and laughing through the lassitude mixed with the euphoric moment. Though he longed for it, he didn’t let himself go. In his state of being worn out and slightly bruised, Byleth gave a contented sigh with a smile lingering on his lips as he watched them from afar. Sothis jokes that he should’ve joined the bet.</p><p>Byleth spots three people huddled on the end of the battle field only to realize that these people were the three house leaders themselves. Byleth jogged over to eavesdrop, but Dimitri catches sight of him heading over and waves a hand.</p><p>“I believe that all three houses have done extremely well today,” Dimitri smiles. “Both of you deserve praise for such a great battle. Don’t you agree, Professor?” </p><p>Byleth nodded in assent, “Both houses were great.” He leans closer to Dimitri with a hand covering his lips as a joke, “but I honestly think that they’re nothing compared to us.” They laugh amongst themselves.</p><p>Claude raises both brows and Edelgard narrows her eyes at the both of them. “Well, it only seemed that way because of your amazing strategies. Under your command, it’s sure that there’s victory to gain in one way or another,” Dimitri compliments.</p><p>Claude audibly clears his throat, “In any case, I’ll just hope there would never be a day where we’d have to fight each other outside these circumstances.”</p><p>“I honestly wouldn’t mind fighting like this in the future,” Edelgard says nonchalantly, making everyone silent. She giggles, “It was but a jest of course!”</p><p>Dimitri’s expression turns dark, “That’s not something to joke about, Edelgard. The Battle of the Eagle and Lion happened in the past, and that’s where it should stay.”</p><p>It caught him by surprise. The sudden shift of his facade and the look on his face made his blood run cold.</p><p>There was a heavy silence, so Byleth took responsibility, “Let’s... just all do our best in getting along, alright? Everyone did a great job today.”</p><p>“At least put a smile on it, yes?” Sothis says, causing Byleth to tug at the corner of his lips in the last second.</p><p>Claude smirks, “Huh. How admirable, Teach. In that case, I have a proposal.” Byleth was relived Claude carried it on. “When we get back to the monastery, let’s have a grand feast to break down the walls between our houses— and by ‘grand feast’, I mean a… fairly regular feast back in the dining hall,” he sighs.</p><p>Edelgard crosses her arms over her chest, “I suppose this would do no harm, so count me in.”</p><p>“I have no objections either,” Dimitri adds. “You, Professor?”</p><p>Byleth shakes his head, a small smile lingering on his lips, “I’m looking forward to it.”</p><p>With infatuation filling his expression, Dimitri marvels at the sight of his professor, “You look so... happy. I love seeing you like this.” It was perhaps something he’d never felt before, the rush of sparks running through the veins right under his skin. Byleth felt light headed for a fleeting moment.</p><p>“I suppose the look on your face is another prize of this glorious day. Perhaps even the best one of all.” Goddess, he wished Dimitri didn’t add to his uneasiness. There was no way of noticing the way Claude’s lips formed into a small scowl and how Edelgard scoffed quite loudly.</p><p>Was this really… affection?</p><p>The kitchen was generous enough to serve a feast for the students after the battle, offering a full set menu laid out for everyone. As everyone lined up to get the food to their taste, Byleth seemed to dump everything on his plate without thought.</p><p>The question haunting until dinner time, Byleth decided to eat to dismiss these thoughts from his head. Once his gloves say on the table and extra armor were off his arms, he gobbled up the sautéed pheasant and slurped the bean soup from the bowl loudly. He was oblivious to the nearby students that gave him puzzled looks as they were quite disturbed and wondering why the professor was scarfing down the food like there was no tomorrow. Raphael, on the other hand, seemed pleased with the professor.</p><p>“You just love eating, don’t you, Professor? Here, have a skewer,” he places a piece of fox skewer on Byleth’s plate. He notices at least that much and nods as thanks.</p><p>Rather than being disturbed, the students became purely concerned for their professor. The Blue Lions glance at Byleth as they ate their food quietly, but Sylvain puts his arm around Felix when he complains about the professor eating too much. “I think something other than the battle must’ve gotten him this hungry,” he says. Felix irritatedly slaps his arm away.</p><p>By the end of dinner, the students head over to their quarters for bed as Byleth stays to help clean up. The kitchen staff thank him and offer him more food but he refuses. He was already staggering around the dining hall while cleaning, he didn’t want to collapse out of a food coma.</p><p>Passing by the entrance hall, he’s greeted by Dimitri just as he rounds the corner. Much to Byleth’s shock, he jolts back in surprise. </p><p>It just had to be him out of all the people in the monastery.</p><p>“Did I scare you, Professor?” He smirks. Byleth frowns. “I’m just teasing. Please accept my sincerest apologies.”</p><p>“That doesn’t seem so sincere,” Byleth huffs. These past few months, he never pegged Dimitri to be the type to joke around or tease him, it was leaning more onto Claude since the boy would always wink at him when he had the chance. </p><p>“Perhaps it is,” he smiles. “Anyway, I just wanted to wait for you so I could tell you that I had a wonderful time today. Of course, I was quite astonished by how... much you ate in the name of celebration. Or were you aggravated by something?”</p><p>Byleth shakes his head, “I was just enjoying myself. Pardon me for my manners.” There was no way he was going to tell Dimitri that he was acting strange because of him. </p><p>Dimitri chuckles lightly, “I see. I must thank you again though. Our victory in the Battle of the Eagle and Lion was thanks to you.”</p><p>“We all did our part. Everyone deserves praise.”</p><p>“That’s true, but it was your instruction and strategy that led us all to victory.” Dimitri sighs, “It’s silly admitting this to you just now, but when I heard that you were going to teach our class... you unnerved me.”</p><p>It was deja vu. Dimitri telling him that the nothingness in his expression bothered him; it was all too familiar since he had said something similar to it before. Byleth couldn’t help but feel that perhaps everything that happened over the past months was nothing but an utter lie.</p><p>He didn’t want to believe that Dimitri’s kindness was nothing but an act this whole time. Unable to look at Dimitri, Byleth trains his eyes to the intricate patterns on the floor. </p><p>Dimitri realizes, “I think I’ve said something similar to this, but never explained why. I’m really if this… you know…”</p><p>“It’s alright. I’m not really affected by these things.” Which was definitely not true because he was thinking about it for the entire night that time.</p><p> “Well... it’s because you never smiled, you never showed immense anger either when someone was late or when someone told you to repeat a part of the lecture for the nth time. You didn’t seem to stifle your emotions around us— you just didn’t seem to be there. I assumed that you didn’t care for us at all, and perhaps I forced you to join our class in one way or another.”</p><p>“You know that’s not true, I chose the Blue Lions because I wanted to. It’s just... quite difficult,” Byleth said quietly.</p><p>“I believe that now, Professor. I know now because months had passed by and I know you better. Though for the longest time, I couldn’t tell what you were thinking... it was as if you had no humanity whatsoever.”</p><p>There was a silence that hung in the air. He knew Sothis was awake, but she didn’t say a word. Byleth knew that he wasn’t expressive, his feelings were dull, and it was like he didn’t belong to himself. There was much he didn’t know; however, he knew that he was able to somewhat regain some of the fragments that were lost. And he’s sure that Dimitri knows it himself because he was the one who made Byleth realize.</p><p>“How about... now?” He looks at Dimitri.</p><p>Dimitri’s lips curve to a smile, “You’re different now. We’ve been together for half a year now, and I’ve seen the glow of humanity in your eyes and in your actions numerous times. It makes me very grateful to have you with me, you know?” </p><p>Without thought, Byleth clutches at a part of his coat, his lips curving into a small smile. “That’s a relief...” he looks straight into his eyes.</p><p>Dimitri’s eyes widened like a deer that had spotted its hunter. His face flushes light pink when his head whips away. He’s biting a small part of his bottom lip, his eyebrows furrow in frustration. His shoulders slump as he gives a huge sigh before he stands upright like he always did.</p><p>He steps close to the professor, hesitantly stroking the side of Byleth’s neck. Instead of gasping out loud, it’s Sothis who does it.</p><p>The hard, cold leather of his gloves made Byleth flinch at the contact. There was a strong urge to escape, especially when the heat rose from his neck to his cheeks. Byleth’s mind was spinning chaotically with unknown messages. Yet, he wasn’t running. His feet remain stuck to the floor.</p><p>Dimitri looked at Byleth in the eye, “You know, Professor,” he says softly, his voice lower than it usually was, “you have no idea of what you do to me.”</p><p>There was a spark in Byleth’s chest, a spark of hope that perhaps this could all work out. All he had to do was spill the words from his mouth and let fate decide what was next. </p><p>But something else came rushing to his mind.</p><p>As quick as he was in dodging in battles, Byleth stepped back, his hand rubbing that certain spot on his neck. Though his entire face and neck was hot, the part where Dimitri touched him was burning. </p><p>He wanted it, but he...</p><p>Dimitri blinked, then his eyes widened to the thought that he actually had done that to his professor. His entire face flushes crimson up to the tips of his ears. “I... I didn’t—“</p><p>“I have to go.” Byleth turns to leave but Dimitri grabs his hand quickly. Byleth swallows hard.</p><p>“Dimitri. Please.”</p><p>“I apologize. I don’t know what...”</p><p>“It’s alright. I just— I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he squirms out of Dimitri’s grip.</p><p>Byleth doesn’t turn around. He realizes he’s heading towards the opposite direction of his quarters, but heading the shorter direction required facing Dimitri. He walks but he hears Dimitri call out, “Have a good night, Professor!”</p><p>Byleth still doesn’t turn back, because he wouldn’t know what to do if he did. Instead he stops walking, then waves a hand before turning around the corner.</p><p>Though there was a chaos of emotions in his head, there was something in his chest that stayed constant. And that was hope. A spark of hope that perhaps Dimitri felt the same way.</p><p>But if they did feel the same, why did it chill him to the bone?<br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>R e d  W o l f  M o o n</em> </b>
</p><p>The mission for the month was a disaster.</p><p>Byleth had used the power of the Divine Pulse to save a villager from the clutches of death. Byleth had seen numerous people die in the past, yet this experience was something else entirely.</p><p>From a distance, he sees a lady get stabbed by a rabid villager. When his sword strikes the villager and he goes to the woman as she’s barely conscious. When Byleth hands her a concoction to take, her shaky arm makes its way to his hair instead.</p><p>“How... how big you’ve grown,” she croaks, her voice sounding so similar to what he’s seen in his mind; so mellow, so warm, so terrifying once her tone changes. Her fingers familiarly untangle his locks. “He… must be... so... proud of you… of <em> us </em>...”</p><p>A wave of fear coursed through his body, making it run cold when he saw that she was no longer moving right after. Other than having a faint idea of who she was, he cursed at himself for realizing too late that there was a flaw in his strategy.</p><p>Immediately, he summoned the Divine Pulse’s power, turning back to the time where the lady stood within range of a rabid villager. All Byleth could do was let out a strangled cry, telling her to move since the opponent was too far even for the Sword of the Creator that Byleth wielded. She responded to him just in time to only get a huge gash across her chest. When Byleth killed the villager, the woman bled out before her legs collapsed beneath her. </p><p>It leads to the same events; her running her bloody fingers through his hair, slowly closing her eyes before she’s unable to open them again. Out of frustration, he summoned the Divine Pulse once more. It warps him back to the same scenario, and yet, it doesn’t change that he’s beyond reach and she dies before his eyes once more. Even when he whips his extended sword out of his hand to target the enemy, even when he takes longer strides, even when he goes back over, and over, it’s all the same; he’s exhausted and weary seeing her die all over again, feeling her bloody hand beneath his hair that awakened a vague memory, sending a cold shudder down his spine. </p><p>He was tired and he was nearing the limit. Sothis knew that much.</p><p>“That’s enough,” Sothis says after his twentieth time. “There’s nothing to be done anymore… as much as I hate to admit it.”</p><p>The present stayed as damned as it was. He watched as crimson spilled from the side of her mouth, feeling so debauched and so helpless.</p><p>It wasn’t long before Dimitri came over, his expression mirroring Byleth’s frustration when he saw him holding a deceased woman in his arms.</p><p>“They must not be forgiven,” Dimitri growls.</p><p>Byleth looks at the woman’s face, regretful that he was unable to remember her properly. He clutches her hand, unable to feel her smooth skin beneath his gloves, yet he holds them, unable to comprehend the uneasiness within him. He doesn’t know whether he should’ve saved her, or let her die as she was now. </p><p>“Come now, Professor. We have to meet with the others.”</p><p>Somebody or nobody to him, he regrets that he was helpless. He brings her hand up to his hair just to experience the feeling one last time, the coldness of her hand slightly making contact with his skin. </p><p>“I… I hope you’ll forgive me,” he said in a whisper before he let go and laid her on the ground. The words come from his mouth in an attempt to atone for failing to save her, yet it felt as though he apologized for something other than failing to save her life.</p><p>She was more than someone he failed to save. He did something else, something that was entirely <em> his </em> fault.</p><p>Once the other villagers surround the woman, Byleth doesn’t stay any longer and walks away as he was unable to look in that direction again.</p><p>“W-Who was she?” Sothis asks him, her voice sharing a similar terror.</p><p>“I don’t know… I don’t…”</p><p>Jeralt meets him halfway towards the barracks. Byleth’s staggering, nauseous from the emotions, the appalling feeling of nostalgia or deja vu that was so foreign. Hands clasp his shoulders and hold him upright, his eyes meet Jeralt’s.</p><p>“Good work. We got to save the majority of Remire Village.” Jeralt looks down at Byleth, assessing the state he was in. “Hey... you alright?”</p><p>“She’s... she’s...” Byleth wheezes. It doesn’t take Jeralt long before he understands what Byleth was talking about. </p><p>“Kid, that’s…” Jeralt stills for moment when he sees the lady. </p><p>“I don’t know... I... I—“ it’s difficult to pace his breathing, Byleth squeezes his eyes shut to focus. He’s sweating, the phantom of her hands in his hair burns his scalp.</p><p>“Kid, hey— look at me.” Byleth forces himself to open them, and when he finally looks at Jeralt’s hazel orbs, he knows how to breathe again. “People come and go in battles like these. Don’t blame yourself over it, instead, you keep your head held high and never lose sight of what you fight for. You never ever yield on those who continue to live.”</p><p>Jeralt probably didn’t know who he was talking about; he hadn’t the slightest idea and thought that she was perhaps a person Byleth failed to save in his eyes. The woman was someone so vague in his memory, yet the feeling of seeing her after all those illusions just to get killed in front of him was revolting. </p><p>And for the first time, Byleth felt the fear properly course down his body. There’s no telling whether Sothis was feeling the same, making it the reason for such a heightened sense. Regardless, he was afraid all the same.</p><p>“Don’t go,” Byleth says almost desperately. He pulls himself to Jeralt, he wraps his arms around his father’s broad back, “don’t go anywhere.”</p><p>Jeralt jolts by the sudden embrace then breathes out a weak laugh, “You know I can’t promise you that. But don’t worry, I’ll be in the monastery next month since I have nothing scheduled for now.”</p><p>Of course Byleth didn’t want just that. The relief of Jeralt being in the monastery next month wasn’t enough. And he thinks it would never really be enough. Byleth doesn’t say anything more, taking in the warmth of his father’s embrace as he tried to avoid the gruesome images in his head.</p><p>The memories of Remire village stay as mere fragments, but it was as though they connected somehow, making the picture bigger and somewhat clearer. The people Jeralt laughed with were no longer faceless, the words he heard that time were audible, and the sensation of having his locks untangled phantoms him.</p><p>That event reappears in his mind as though it were still fresh even as the days pass. </p><p>The thought of fate and the fact that turning back time couldn’t fix everything filled him with fear. And perhaps now, he could somewhat sympathize with those who have lost someone due to their incompetence. </p><p>Because he… he was just—</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>E t h e r e a l  M o o n</em> </b>
</p><p>It was better off forgetting things, yet he could never really tear the scene from his visions. </p><p>He was always reading his lectures from the book, the knowledge would exit his mouth as it did from his head that’s why healing never really stuck to him.</p><p>“Why do you want to learn how to heal, Professor? Not that I'm trying to pry or anything,” Mercedes waves a hand, “but it’s all so sudden.”</p><p>He never gives her an exact answer, telling her that he felt incompetent for being so substandard at faith. She goes along with it anyway, teaching some basic spells that close wounds but don’t patch them up from the inside. </p><p>The deeper the wound was, it required a longer and more complicated process for it to heal, but the white magic would be enough for it to stop the bleeding. For Byleth, it was enough to cover up the wound as long as he would be able to take the person to the medics before they lost too much blood. Faith was just far too complicated for him.</p><p>Other than Mercedes, Marianne was willing to teach him a couple of spells that would heal people if they were to get slashed by a weapon slathered in poison. He stayed to listen, but he was distracted by the flow of his thoughts. They seemed to crisscross from one vision to another, and sometimes it was just plain emptiness. Not even when he was talking to anyone, but even when he was alone, his head was buzzing with something unknown to him. Sothis stayed quiet for longer periods this time; he couldn’t even tell whether she was sleeping or not.</p><p>“Are you alright, Professor?” Sylvain asks.</p><p>Byleth snaps out of his thoughts, nearly dropping the book in his hand, “Oh. Yes. Of course.”</p><p>“Weren’t you... going to ask me, uh... something?”</p><p>Byleth narrows his eyes in thought until a pang of realization hits, “Of course. I was going to ask you to represent the class for the White Heron Cup.”</p><p>Of course the past events lead to that. In spite of their unsteady terms, Byleth shared some tea with Dimitri. Aside from depicting that he wasn’t affected by their awkward state, tea time was always a sorry excuse for him to spend more time with Dimitri anyway. Their conversation with each other was laggier than usual; they were silent for the most part, the sound of teeth grinding sugar cookies being the only sound in the room. </p><p>In a pitiful attempt to make a conversation, Byleth asked Dimitri if he was willing to represent the class since he was the house leader after all. After Dimitri chokes on his tea and Byleth doesn’t need words to know that he’s bluntly rejected. </p><p>In the end, Sylvain accepted the offer of having to represent the White Heron Cup. As a guy who constantly pinned on women, he held natural charm and Byleth believed that he could win just with a few lessons of dance— not that he was even skilled enough to teach him how to dance. He asked Manuela to teach Sylvain, and in exchange for that, he paid for her liquor.</p><p>Going back to the tavern was out of the question despite the stress. The White Heron Cup wasn’t the only event there was that month to focus on. The ball was apparently another big event in Garreg Mach, (Dimitri’s birthday was also coming soon— not that he wanted to admit that he cared) and their mission by the end of the month was to eliminate enemies with the assistance of Jeralt. The Ethereal Moon sure was a busy month.</p><p>“Is that a smile?” Jeralt asked Byleth during one of the nights before his mission. Jeralt had two missions for the month, Byleth felt bad for him somehow as he didn’t refuse beer over tea when Jeralt asked. He never admits that he drinks at most a mug with Jeralt and still manages to get quite tipsy. Now that he was, the vision of the prince in his head caused an odd reaction.</p><p>“A smile? No... I don’t think so...”</p><p>Jeralt gives a hearty laugh, “In denial I see.”</p><p>“I would appreciate it if you would stop teasing me.”</p><p>“Ah... you’ve been so sour about me teasing you. Or are you just drunk right now?”</p><p>“Of course not. I’m always sour about being teased because I don’t find the humor in it,” Byelth pouts. </p><p>“At least now I can see it in your face that you’re not amused,” Jeralt says, clearly amused. “You know, you’ve been more... expressive these days. Who taught you that, huh?”</p><p>Byleth actually feels himself smiling this time, “Oh... I don’t know...” His fingers unconsciously place themselves on the badge placed above his heart.</p><p>Jeralt shakes his head in solace then gulps down his third mug of beer before letting out an exhale, “I guess it wasn’t so bad coming back here after all. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you work with those kids.”</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>The White Heron Cup came along a few weeks later, which Sylvain surprisingly won. Byleth wasn’t expecting a victory even in a dancing competition, but there it was, the Blue Lions rejoicing once more because of another win. Manuela huffed at the sight as Byleth gave a mellow grin at the sight of his students cheerfully surrounding Sylvain. </p><p>They were an amazing class. And that class was his own. Byleth couldn’t be any prouder than he was at that moment. He was trying his best not to feel it, yet there he was succumbing into the sensation. Byleth didn’t know why he was trying to avoid it. He didn’t know why it felt simply wrong to give in.</p><p>What he also wanted was to figure out this enigma of a person Dimitri was within the last three months he’d have with him. Perhaps it wasn’t the main goal he had in mind, but it could be that Byleth simply wanted to keep Dimitri happy. The tension slowly made its exit as the days had gone by, and Byleth was able to ask him to have tea again, sharing that peculiar, chamomile tea that the student favored the most. He always drank it with no sugar and it bothered Byleth.</p><p>With nothing better to think of on Dimitri’s birthday, Byleth decided to share tea with Dimitri and give him leather riding boots and a bouquet of carnations he bought from the market outside Garreg Mach. It’s not that he had any favoritism because he spent on other students for their birthdays, though for Dimitri he thinks he may have gone a little too far.</p><p>Byleth could feel the sparks of heat crawling up his neck; if it were flushed pink, he was just grateful that his collar covered his entire neck. Anticipating Dimitri’s reaction, Byleth didn’t quite expect Dimitri’s expression. His eyes dilated and his jaw slacked in shock. </p><p>“Th-thank you, Professor. This is—“</p><p>“Too much, I know. I apologize, I... I must’ve gone overboard,” Byleth says.</p><p>“No, no, I didn’t mean that. Your kindness is just... boundless. Nothing’s too much, especially when it comes from you.”</p><p>“You’re just overreacting,” Byleth gives a weak laugh despite his bashful appearance. He held the gifts and handed them over to Dimitri. The student gawked at it in disbelief before cupping Byleth’s hand from the bottom of the package. His breathing hitches at the contact.</p><p>“<em> Ugh</em>, just what are you waiting for? You will not get anywhere if you keep holding back. Someone might even steal him away from you,” Sothis sassed.</p><p>Byleth doesn’t find himself responding because he knew what he wanted, yet couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Not yet.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>The night before the ball, he was perplexed to find his students talking amongst themselves in the classroom. Byleth joined in to figure out that they were talking about graduation: how it was only a few months away, how they’d go their separate ways and have their respective positions. Perhaps Byleth would still be teaching in Garreg Mach, but who knows what’s to come?</p><p>Annette was insistent, “We just have to have a reunion!”</p><p>“Certainly,” Mercedes agrees. “We have to promise to meet each other again in the future.”</p><p>“But when? Our positions in the future might hinder us from seeing each other,” Ingrid informs.</p><p>“Perhaps... five years from now?” Dedue offers. </p><p>“Five years?” Ashe asks, puzzled as to why.</p><p>“Ah! Good thinking, Dedue. Five years from now is the Millennium Festival of Garreg Mach,” Dimitri realizes. “It gives us all an excuse to meet up with the Professor.”</p><p>“Mm. That sounds like a plan,” Felix accepts.</p><p>“Count me in,” Sylvain says.</p><p>“So, Professor,” Dimitri looks at Byleth with a glint of anticipation, “is this a promise?”</p><p>The thought of seeing his first students in Garreg Mach graduate will surely make him feel lonely, but seeing them in five years time, all grown up finely through his guidance, it would bring him such bliss. Perhaps by then, he wouldn’t have to keep hesitating because he’s already realized why they mean more to him than the fears that lurk within.</p><p>Byleth nods, “It’s definitely a promise.”</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>Time flew quickly to the next evening, and Byleth was standing near the grand buffet as he watched the students dance in the reception hall and sipped on a drink that tasted somewhat like champagne mixed with toffee.</p><p>The most awaited event had finally come; the reception hall was an entirely different venue with its polished floors and decorated walls, the students fixed their hair and pressed their uniforms, and everyone seemed to have a dance for every type of music that was played by the orchestra. </p><p>The students danced in the center of the room, their partners following the same pattern of steps they took. Byleth watched Dimitri as he danced with a girl skillfully. He spoke of her during one of their tea sessions, how she asked him to be his partner, how her hair fell right over her shoulders, how her hand seemed too fragile when they practiced dancing. Byleth wished he didn’t listen. </p><p>They looked at each other in the eye, their lips curved into a smile for some unknown reason. Their eye contact didn’t break even until the end of the song. When it ended, they laughed and talked among themselves before another song began to play. Dimitri holds her hand as the other lies on her waist. He twirls her around and she giggles. </p><p>The spark of hope within falters. Perhaps Dimitri was just doing his usual teasing at that time. There was no way he’d feel the same because he only saw him as a professor, tactician in battle, and a friend outside of classes; nothing more, nothing less. </p><p>Byleth thought that it’s pathetic to place his faith in something so intangible yet tangible at the same time. It was difficult to have such recalcitrant sentiments, and it was difficult to feel so hurt just seeing his hope crumble before him.</p><p>Byleth finds himself thinking if he were in the girl’s shoes. He wonders how Dimitri’s hands felt against his. How would he hold his waist? He was powerful in battle, but would his hands hold him lightly? Would he look him in the eye and twirl him around with a smile on his face? Would Dimitri say the words that Byleth longed for? </p><p>
  <em> You don’t know what you do to me. </em>
</p><p>Dimitri and the girl laugh among themselves in a slow dance.</p><p>Byleth scowls.</p><p>“I almost feel sorry for you,” Sothis comments.</p><p>He places his drink down and sighs. Someone clicks their tongue beside him. </p><p>“You just can’t keep your eyes off him huh, Teach?” Claude says, his eyes following Dimitri and the girl drift through the room in unison. The leader of the Golden Deer was as keen as ever; being able to read through the most emotionless face in the entire Fódland— or rather he was just that transparent these days.</p><p>Unable and refusing to say anything, Byleth keeps his eyes trained on Dimitri until he sees a hand offered in front of him. He raises an eyebrow at Claude skeptically.</p><p>“You can’t stare at him all night because I won’t allow it.” Byelth looks at him and he stares back, the depravity of his statement suddenly dawning on him. His aura shifts for some peculiar reason. “Well… er… people will talk though. If they see you dancing with me and all that, who knows what rumors might—“</p><p>“I don’t care. Just dance with me.” Who cared about a little gossip in the monastery?</p><p>The fast response takes Claude back, and his usual cunning facade returns as quickly as it left. Claude takes Byleth’s hand and pulls him over to the center. The professor hesitantly follows. “Don’t be scared, Teach,” Claude smirks.</p><p>Byleth shrugs, “I’m not scared of you.”</p><p>Claude chuckles lightly as he guides Byleth’s hands to intertwine with his. “Then lighten up a little, won’t ‘cha? I swear I’m a pretty good dancer myself.” As they sway to the music, Claude moves closer to Byleth, with his lips nearly touching his ear. “I’m going to sweep you off your feet tonight so watch out, Teach,” he whispers with a low voice.</p><p>And for the first time that night, Byleth bursted out in laughter. It was an odd thing to laugh about, yet he couldn’t take Claude seriously at all; the intent on his face was just so hilarious. The student didn’t seem to have the intention of being serious in the first place since he too was laughing as they danced across the room.</p><p>Dancing with Claude wasn’t bad at all. Byleth’s clumsy footsteps were able to follow Claude’s after a few songs. Claude wasn’t wrong about being such a good dancer after all. Soon enough, Byleth switched partners, from another student to another, holding his hand, taking him by the waist, making him twirl them under his arm.</p><p>Despite his little to no skill in dancing, he seemed too high in demand with students and teachers alike. It doesn’t matter who he danced with, but he could feel the corners of his lips curved up throughout the night in the euphoric atmosphere the sound of Sothis’s laughter.</p><p>After much dancing, he decided to escape before anyone else could ask him for another dance. Sothis scolded him for leaving, and taking such an exciting event for granted. But with aching feet, Byleth still staggered over to wherever his trembling legs brought him. The white moonlight shone over Garreg Mach. When Byleth looked up he recognized that he was nowhere near the reception hall with the pillars and moss-filled walls that surrounded him. </p><p>He was in the Goddess Tower, the famous tower known for its legend. The gatekeeper told him once during one of their usual friendly conversations, that if a man and a woman go together in the tower, the wish that they’d make would come true. Byleth walked along the path near the moss walls in solitude, debating in his head whether these legends were true or not.</p><p>“It looks like you’re not alone,” Sothis warns quietly. Byleth looks around, and almost instantly he spots a familiar set of pale blue eyes gleaming under the moonlight. Just what in the world was he doing here? Byleth realizes that he hadn’t noticed him leave the reception hall at all as he was too busy dancing until he dropped.</p><p>“Oh, Professor. What are you doing here?” Dimitri with a toneless voice.</p><p>Something seemed quite odd, but Byleth himself was acting strange too. “I could ask you the same thing. Aren’t you going to dance with that girl or perhaps... Edelgard?”</p><p>“E-Edelgard? No, I think not.” Dimitri denies, color flushing pink. Then he gives a wanton sigh. “You know... she taught me how to dance back when we were still children. It was quite... embarrassing to be honest.”</p><p>“Children?”</p><p>Dimitri speaks about the tale of how he and Edelgard were siblings by marriage. Byleth always suspected that they had a certain relationship somehow, but never did it cross his mind that they would be siblings. The student continues his story where Edelgard and her uncle had to live in Faerghus as the Empire was in turmoil. At that time, neither Dimitri or Edelgard had the slightest clue they were siblings, resulting in their relationship to childhood friends. When Edelgard couldn’t stay there any longer, she left to go back to the Empire. They reunited in Garreg Mach, both as different people who chose to forget the memories they shared in the past. </p><p>He sighs, “It’s pathetic to think about it now, don’t you think?”</p><p>Byleth shakes his head, “Of course not.”</p><p> “Thank you, Professor.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “ Well, what do you think I gave her as a parting gift?”</p><p>“Hmm,” Byleth pretends to think deeply. “Something unexpected I’ll bet.”</p><p>“What <em> is </em> that unexpected something?”</p><p>“Something… dangerous?”</p><p>“Perhaps,” Dimitri raises a brow.</p><p>“Something unexpected… and something dangerous. It almost sounds like you gave her a dagger,” Byleth jokes as it was the first thing that came to mind when he eyed the sealed dagger by Dimitri’s hips mindlessly. <em> It’s a very Dimitri-like gift </em>, he thought.</p><p>“Huh... I never thought you’d get it right, Professor. On your first try even... you really never cease to amaze.” Byleth’s eyes widened in disbelief. How in the <em> world </em>did he get that right?</p><p>“But I swear, that was given sincerely,” Dimitri says exasperatedly, feeling embarrassed of his past actions. “In Faerghus, blades are a symbolism of cutting a path to a better future. I don’t think she understood it in that sense. That was many years ago, she has probably forgotten who I was back then.”</p><p>“It’s never too late to get along with her again,” Byleth suggests but Dimitri shakes his head.</p><p>“I’m afraid it is. She’s different. I’m different. There are just some things in this world you can’t get back to.”</p><p>Just like how the Divine Pulse could take him back, but not enough— never enough to change fate as he wanted it to be. </p><p>“I... I guess so.” </p><p>Silence wafts in the cold air and the moon shines over them both as they don’t speak. Cheers all the way from the reception hall cuts through the long pause. </p><p>“Pardon me for bothering you with such an unimportant topic. Anyway, I forgot to ask you why you’re here— in the Goddess Tower that is,” Dimitri says.</p><p>“I believe I asked you the same thing a while ago,” Byleth shoots. He never really asked him, but that didn’t matter.</p><p>Dimitri gives a defeated sigh, “Alright. I’ll concede. I came here because I wanted to get away from the festivities for a bit. Just a little tired from the dancing and all.”</p><p>“Tired? You were tired from dancing with that girl?” Byleth blurts. It was as if Sothis was the one who made him force the words out of his mouth, but a part of him knew that he wanted to ask that without having to admit that he wanted to. There was a specific answer he wanted to hear, though he wasn’t really sure why.</p><p>“Oh, of course not. She was lovely. A good dancer and a fine woman to talk to. I’d love to dance with her again sometime.”</p><p>An odd pang in his chest, “I... I see.” Despite having told himself that he shouldn’t have any hope, the spark stays alive, shining dimly.</p><p>“Professor?”</p><p>Dimitri was looking at him like he knew something, and it scared Byleth. “Yes?”</p><p>“Not to be rude... but, by any chance, were you...” Dimitri looks around then sighs. Byleth could’ve sworn he saw the hint of playfulness in his eyes.“N-never mind.”</p><p>Byleth wanted to know what he’d ask, but stayed silent instead. The wind blew past them, the faint sound of music and trees rustling was audible from below. Even his breathing seemed louder than anything else.</p><p>“Aren’t... you going to ask me why I’m here?” Byleth cuts through the silence.</p><p>“Ah, why yes, of course,” Dimitri realizes. “So, Professor, what brings you here to the Goddess tower?”</p><p>“Nearly the same reason as you. I just wanted to get away, you know, from all the dancing and talking.”</p><p>Dimitri scoffs, “I assumed you took a break because of Claude’s awful dancing.”</p><p>“That’s not true,” Byleth says, “Claude is an amazing dancer— he’s quite excellent in sweeping people off their feet.”</p><p>“Well, did he sweep you off your feet, Professor?” Dimitri asks with a tone Byleth was unfamiliar with.</p><p>“Perhaps,” Byleth gives a light laugh as he reminisces. Dimitri’s eyebrows furrow as he crosses his arms over his chest and looks away. He was furious, so to speak. Byleth found it oddly amusing; quite hilarious even if he didn’t know why. “Why? Are you angry?” Byleth asks.</p><p>“No,” Dimitri states, “I’m not angry.”</p><p>Byleth chuckles lightly, “Your expression speaks otherwise.”</p><p>“I’m not angry.”</p><p>“You’re not such a good liar, Dimitri.”</p><p>“I said, I’m not angry.”</p><p>“You are.”</p><p>“I’m not.”</p><p>“You most definitely are,” Byleth teases.</p><p>Even though it was silent, Byleth doesn’t hear what Dimitri mumbles. “—at would it mean to you?”</p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p>“If I was really furious, what would it mean to you?” He walks towards him and Byleth takes a few steps backwards but not quick enough to escape Dimitri when he holds him still by the sides of his arms. Byleth finds himself unable to look him in the eye even when Dimitri’s hands squeeze his arms tight. His predatory gaze sent a cold shiver down Byleth’s spine.</p><p>“Dimitri—“</p><p>“What does it mean to you, Professor? What are you thinking about in that expressionless demeanor of yours?” His grip tightens.</p><p>“You’re g-gripping too hard—“ </p><p>“Answer me, Professor,” Dimitri demanded firmly.</p><p>“I don’t know— <em> ngh </em>.”</p><p>“What does my jealousy mean to you?”</p><p>“J-Jealously?”</p><p>Dimitri? Jealous? His grip began to loosen. </p><p>The heat spread throughout all the parts of his body. Byleth could feel the way his cheeks flush crimson when he looked at Dimitri, who mirrored him with his bright red hue.</p><p>Could he really?</p><p>Dimitri bends over, his arms slip from Byleth’s shoulders to his back, caging him in his embrace and pulling him closer. Byleth had to pull away, he <em> had </em>to but Dimitri’s hold was firm. He felt the student’s breath in his ear, he could almost make out how close it was to come in contact with his skin.</p><p>Suddenly, the sound of the next song breaks through the air and cuts the silence. Cheers of the people erupt from the hall and resounds through the atmosphere. </p><p>“I apologize, Professor. But... may I dance with you? Or is it too much to ask?” Dimitri asked quietly, making his voice huskier as it was an octave lower. “I... I know we haven’t been on the best terms, but I don’t want things to stay like this between us. I want you to look at me without feeling uncomfortable, I want to be close to you again, I just— I want to be the one to sweep you off your feet.”</p><p>“You… you want to trip me?” Byleth hesitantly attempts to joke. He was in Dimitri’s arms and he wanted to avoid thinking about it so badly.</p><p>Dimitri frowns, “I’m trying to be serious here.”</p><p>Despite his failed attempt to joke around, Byleth was dizzy with emotions, and perhaps this was all just a good dream and he was afraid to wake up, because if he did, everything would disappear. It was too good to be true, but if fate allowed it, was it really… </p><p>Byleth blinks hard to confirm he wasn’t delusional. </p><p>“Alright, alright… just warning you that I’m not a good dancer,” Byleth concedes quietly and he could almost feel the way Dimitri beams.</p><p>“Then let me guide you,” Dimitri says.</p><p> He pulls back, intertwining Byleth’s hand in his and places his other hand on the professor’s waist. Byleth reluctantly places his hand on the curve in between Dimitri’s neck and shoulder, then they begin to sway to the music of a slow dance. </p><p>“I’ll assure you that by the end of this, you’ll say that I’m a better dancer than Claude,” Dimitri says with such confidence, that it makes Byleth cough out a laugh, his grip unintentionally tightening.</p><p>“I’ll be the judge of that,” Byleth smirks and it was Dimitri’s turn to flush crimson.</p><p>So they danced. They danced in the Goddess Tower, perhaps quite ignorant of the purpose it served or the legend it held. Byleth kept himself mesmerized by the moonlit color of Dimitri’s eyes to even care as he could see it from a shorter distance than usual. They held a glint this time; they seemed more alive, reflecting the spark of sincerity and something else he couldn’t comprehend.</p><p>His blonde hair shone of gold under the moonlight, lips formed into a serene smile, long fingers wrapped around the professor’s waist. Byleth’s weary footsteps were dragged by the skillful movements and the force of Dimitri’s hands on his waist. Even if his feet weren’t to cooperate, the pressure on his hip guided by Dimitri helped him follow the student’s footsteps. It was just like how Byleth imagined, perhaps even better. </p><p>“Up,” Dimitri says.</p><p>“Wha—“ Dimitri raises the hand where their fingers are interlaced, making Byleth twirl from underneath the bridge of their arms. It was a slow, clumsy turn and Byleth could feel the embarrassment rising up his chest, but Dimitri didn’t seem to bat an eye on the matter. It made him relieved somehow, knowing that he wasn’t being arbitrated, but there was no use since he might never get this opportunity again.</p><p>So, he kept dancing, still doing those graceless twirls that Dimitri seemed to favor anyway. They eventually laughed at the way Byleth’s shoulder would twist awkwardly at a certain point in the turn. How Byleth wished this moment lasted for an entire lifetime. </p><p>His hands ended up interlocking behind Dimitri’s neck as Dimitri’s hands held his waist. No words were exchanged, but laughs and mesmerized looks. Even when the music slowed to a stop, they calmly danced along the rustling of the trees with no more twirling about, but instead mirroring each other’s lethargic sways.</p><p>Byleth leans his head against Dimitri’s chest, feeling the strong thumping beneath. He closes his eyes and sways to its calming beat. Dimitri’s hand comes up to stroke the side of Byleth’s neck. “I can feel your heartbeat...” Byleth whispers as he trails off. </p><p>They talked about it over tea once, how Byleth was missing a heartbeat of his own. Dimitri never looked at him strangely for that phenomenon, not even on this night. </p><p>“It beats for the both of us.”</p><p>Byleth laughs into Dimitri’s chest and continues to listen to the strong, steady beats of his thumping heart. Byleth never knew how to describe it until now. </p><p>It was intriguing how it could signify the essence of life through sound and the way it felt. At this moment, he was alive, <em> they </em>were alive. And they danced as though they were just two people in Fódland who could spend their lives together.</p><p>“You know, Professor, the legend of this tower says that if two people go here together, their wishes would come true. It’s quite silly, don’t you think?”</p><p>Byleth smiles fondly even though Dimitri did miss a detail of the legend, “Perhaps. I can’t say whether I believe in it or not. Legends are legends after all.”</p><p>“I don’t think I pegged you as one who would believe in those things in the first place. I feel the same, though I suppose there isn’t any harm in making one.”</p><p>“You want to make a wish?”</p><p>“I suggest you go first,” Dimitri says, “I’m still in the midst of making one up.”</p><p>Byleth doesn’t need to think, but the fact that he was to say it out loud made him hesitate. “I... I wish that Fódlan’s peace would be secured, that the Blue Lions would grow up to be outstanding individuals after they graduate, and... I.... I guess that’s it,” Byleth says as Dimitri looks at him expectantly, as if he was waiting for a certain answer. “Y-your turn,” Byleth stammers.</p><p>“As for me, I wish that we would live in a world wherein we wouldn’t lose anyone through unfortunate fates and injustice.” His face flushes light pink, “And I... I also wish that my feelings would eventually come across this certain person.”</p><p>Even if they were dancing in a position like that, Byleth could never assume anything. <em> Lucky was the person Dimitri has feelings for, </em> he thought at the back of his mind. It was surprising how a spark could die as fast as it was ignited, Byleth decided to face reality and realize that it could never happen. The goddess would never make their wishes come true since his will was compromised by the existence of fate. </p><p>He pulls back and forces a smile, “If fate permits it, then fate will find a way to do it.”</p><p>Dimitri halts in his swaying, his gaze piercing Byleth, “But fate will need help if I want <em>my</em> way. Isn’t that right, Professor?”</p><p>Byleth looks up at him with a puzzled look as he too halted in dancing. Dimitri’s hold on his hips tightened.</p><p>There’s something in the air between them that shifts.</p><p>“Please, Professor. Please push me away if you don’t want it, but... I can’t hold back anymore,” Dimitri choked as if he were holding back something so painfully. It was pitiful, though Byleth couldn’t understand what it was. Not until he seemed to be inching closer.</p><p>“What do you—“ he was about to ask in concern but Dimitri’s lips shut him up. Byleth no longer felt the entrenched grip on his waist, but the forceful impact of Dimitri’s lips against his. It was probably normal to think about how it would bruise, but he thinks about how everything must be a dream. Dimitri pushes further, persistent for contact. Byleth’s hands loosen from themselves and fall onto Dimitri’s broad shoulders. </p><p>It was him.</p><p>Goddess, it was <em> him </em>.</p><p>It was difficult to believe that <em> he </em>was that person, the person who would receive his feelings. His legs were on the verge of collapsing, because everything was overwhelming, unbelievable, beautiful, and...</p><p>Breathing heavily, Byleth pulls back, “We... we can’t. I—“</p><p>But Dimitri kisses him again, desperately this time. It’s an open-mouthed kiss that makes Byleth squeeze his eyes shut as he could feel the way Dimitri’s tongue makes its way in his mouth. He pulls Byleth's waist closer to his, the blue medallion on Byleth’s chest clicking with the gold clip of Dimitri’s cape. The professor is pushed against the wall, his neck craned upwards to meet Dimitri’s lips, taking him in like he was the oxygen he needed to breathe. </p><p>It could never happen again, this was probably his only damned chance to do this. </p><p>Byelth slides his fingers into Dimitri’s golden locks, pulling him closer to kiss him back. He feels the way Dimitri strokes down to his chest, he never knew that he was so sensitive until Dimitri’s fingers brush over a certain spot. His breathing hitches before his lips release a strange sound. Dimitri smiles against his lips, his breathing is hot and heavy before he kisses Byleth’s jaw then trails them down to his spot right below his ear. He was going lower, and lower, tracing his path with sloppy kisses until the skin under his jaw.</p><p>It felt good. It felt so good that it took a while for the thought to register in his head that it was all wrong.</p><p>Just before Dimitri could sink his teeth into the warm skin of Byleth’s neck, Byleth pushes him away. “We... we can’t do this.” </p><p>He hated ruining the mood like this, he hated how it was so close, yet he had to ruin it. If this went any further, Byleth knew that he wouldn’t know how to stop.</p><p>“I watched you, Professor. The way you would look at me, I always hoped that our feelings were concerted, but I never had any way of figuring that out without you knowing. I... I couldn’t control myself anymore, that’s why I swore to myself that tonight… tonight I’d muster all my courage and find out for myself.”</p><p>“The person who you were—“</p><p>“It’s you, Professor. It’s you.”</p><p>It was so euphoric, it made him dizzy. It was as if he couldn’t breathe because he was so overjoyed. </p><p>Then he thought again, trying not to get drunk on emotions that he couldn’t contain. He’s once again hit with the thought that he can’t do this. He’s hit with the thought of something else that’s stemming from a deep, bottomless hole.</p><p>“But I can’t, Dimitri. We can’t do this. I—“</p><p>“Do you love me, Professor?”</p><p>“This—“</p><p>“Do you love me?” </p><p>It’s silent. Byleth could feel Sothis’ presence, yet she doesn’t utter a word, as if telling him it was his choice to make though he could already feel her tension of wanting to push him more, tell him it was alright. That it was alright to let go and not be afraid for once.</p><p>The words were at the tip of his tongue, daring to fall out but Byleth kept them in because he knew he couldn’t bear the thought. He doesn’t want to do it, never in eternity would he want to. If only he were different. If only he had the courage to overcome such morbid thoughts and delusional memories. </p><p>False visions, an unknown fear; he didn’t know, but he listened, and his body knew it through the past that had destroyed it.</p><p>It wouldn’t work out.</p><p>
  <em> My little Bluebell. </em>
</p><p>Because...</p><p>
  <em> We’re never enough. </em>
</p><p>Because love was always bound to—</p><p>
  <em> You’re never— </em>
</p><p>“I don’t love you.”</p><p>The words that came out tasted bitter, more bitter than burnt chamomile leaves. It hurt Byleth, but nothing could compare to the expression on Dimitri’s face. It was difficult to look at him after saying such words— such <em> lies </em>. </p><p>“Are you... are you serious—“</p><p>“I don’t love you,” Byleth repeats once more and it makes him want to cut his tongue off.</p><p>Distorted music plays, trees rustle, the voices in his head seem to speak in another language, yet the silence between them is deafening.</p><p>“Then <em> why? </em> Why didn’t you push me away? Why— why did you even reciprocate...” Dimitri chokes out, sounding so betrayed, it makes Byleth tremble because he’s become afraid of Dimitri’s crestfallen face. Afraid of what excuse he’d come up with that would lead up to something he wouldn’t want. Afraid that they’ll never be the same. </p><p>And they probably will never be.</p><p>Unable to look him in the eye, Byleth speaks, “I just was caught up in the moment. I... didn’t know what to do when you came up to me like that.”</p><p>As if he had lost all hope, Dimitri was unable to face him. He let go of Byleth and stepped back, his fists balled on his sides and eyes trained to the ground. Byleth couldn’t bear looking at him either. The guilt and regret weighed on him greatly.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” </p><p>With that, he leaves the Goddess Tower.</p><p>Byleth ran as fast as he could with a certain lump rising in his throat, making his eyes water. His vision blurred, it was daring to spill out, but he held it in, biting his bottom lip until he could taste the metallic liquid on his tongue. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t bear the thoughts in his head.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>The strange feeling couldn’t be helped once more when they reached the final week of the Ethereal Moon. </p><p>Never had it crossed his mind that he’d watch his father die in front of him.</p><p>It’s not even those demonic beasts that killed him, but a student. A <em> damned </em> student. </p><p>When Monica has thrust her dagger deep into Jeralt’s abdomen, Byleth’s heart leapt to his throat and immediately summoned the Divine Pulse. </p><p>But even the Divine Pulse was unable to save his father as he summoned its power countless times. </p><p>One, three, twenty-five…</p><p>The curve of his blade, the appearance of a mysterious man in front of him.</p><p>Forty-seven, seventy-three… </p><p>The thrust of the dagger, the blood; he knew the details all too well to drown out Sothis’ cries in his head.</p><p>Eighty-one, eighty-five…</p><p>His head was spinning. He knew what to do, goddess, he was right <em> there,</em> he was within reach. He knew what turn to make, what angle to swing his sword, how many steps he had to take to slice that man’s head off. </p><p>But fate always had something new. Something new that kept him from taking Jeralt away from the clutches of death. His attacks were dodged, the man warps and takes Monica away before he could even cut her into pieces. </p><p>Eight-five. It took him eighty-five times before his legs collapsed beneath him.</p><p>He was crawling towards his dying father at that point. Help was too far from reach, and his white magic was deemed useless as the bleeding wouldn’t stop oozing from the wound. Jeralt lay on his lap as the glow on Byleth’s hand slowly faded. The sensation came to Byleth, he was shaking in anger, sadness, and perhaps other emotions he’s unable to describe. </p><p>There was nothing he could do to save his father. He wanted to scream, he wanted to kill. He cursed fate for being so cruel. </p><p>He had no choice but to sit there, looking at his father through a blurred vision, trying to hold it in but there was no use. The tears began to spill down his cheeks incessantly. His lips trembled in helplessness and his chest felt hollow. The lump in his throat came out as a painful sob as he held Jeralt close, pressing his coat onto the wound in an attempt to mitigate the bleeding.</p><p>Fate was just so...</p><p>So <em> cruel </em>.</p><p>“Sorry... kid... it looks like I’ll have to leave... you now.”</p><p>“N-no you can’t leave me. Not like this.”</p><p>Jeralt reaches up to Byleth's face, caressing his cheek to wipe the tears off, “To think the first time I’d see you cry... your tears would be for me.”</p><p>“No... no, please. Don’t leave me,” Byleth begged. It was difficult to breathe, Byleth was shaking with the thought of him being left alone, with no family left to hold on to. </p><p>“It’s sad, yet, I’m happy for it.”</p><p>Thunder crackles in the sky above, but he can’t hear it. </p><p>“It should’ve been me. I-It should’ve been me...” Byleth pressed his father’s hand to his cheek, feeling the last sensations of warmth in his scarred palm. He sobbed achingly as his mind supplied him with the voices in his head.</p><p>He could feel the way Jeralt was no longer capable of lifting his arm as his consciousness was slowly drifting away. “No, kid, don’t say that. You have... to live on. Live for what you... believe in. Your... mother would’ve... wanted that...”</p><p>“No, please stay with me for a bit longer— please, help should come soon. It will come, so please, <em>please</em>,” Byleth persuaded desperately. </p><p>
  <em> It should’ve been him. Goddess, it should’ve been him. </em>
</p><p>“I want... that... for you too.”</p><p>He smiled weakly. Byleth wished he didn’t.</p><p>Byleth knew that after Jeralt had said that, he didn't look at him anymore because his gaze was placid. A pair of lifeless eyes stared back at Byleth. Jeralt was still, as still as those countless lives he’s taken on the battlefield. </p><p>His father’s hand fell from his, and when Byleth brought it back to his cheek, it would fall on the ground once more. The lingering warmth had disappeared. Unable to believe, he presses his ear against his father’s chest only to find a hollow silence. He knew it was over.</p><p>His tears fell upon his father’s cheeks, soon the rain followed.</p><p>He was screaming until his throat hurt. He screamed until he could hear himself. He screamed until the goddess decided to strike him with lightning and take his life right there. But the rain overpowered the sound of his devastated cry. </p><p>Byleth held onto Jeralt, sobbing into his chest so that fate would pity him, so that a miracle could bring his father back to life. </p><p>But like most things in life, reality and fate was never in anyone’s favor.</p><p>The rest came soon, shocked to find the two soaked in the rain. They pried the persistent, sobbing professor off his father. Dedue hooked him by his arms to keep him from running to Jeralt as his body was taken away by soldiers. He cried out for him incessantly until his hiccuping and clogged nose kept him from saying anything.</p><p>He doesn’t notice the way Dimitri looked at him from the side. Not even the way Dimitri ran to him quickly, just to hesitate and pull back, as if he recalled something that kept him away. </p><p>There’s only one thing he hears, one thing he notices amidst the chaos around him and in his head. And he knows neither he or Sothis can deny it.</p><p>
  <em> You’ll never be enough for anyone. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i hope this wasn’t too much because this is literally just the beginning. to make up for the late late update i’ll probably have the next part around thursday.</p><p>i really appreciate you guys for reading this. thanks for all the love you give because it really means a lot to me.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>"We had another argument again today. Before, our fights would fester until the final strand broke, we would be at each other's necks before we even knew it. But I believe that these days are better days. No matter how horrible our arguments are, I can never stay frustrated. Never with him."</i>
</p><p> </p><p>— written in the false goddess’s notebook, retrieved from the King’s quarters</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ok i know i'm an ass for saying that i'll be uploading on a thursday literally weeks ago, and yes, i apologize for that. my problems about the late update don't matter but worry not, this isn't going to be dropped because i have everything planned out already. well with that aside, hope you guys enjoy this chapter yayay.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>G u a r d i a n  M o o n</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>It never ended after that. It only seemed to worsen as the weeks passed by. Time and fate didn’t hesitate to hold back even if people lost their lives or their will to live. Not that they ever did in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyday continued, even with the death of a respected knight under the church— even when his father died, the world continued to go on. People in Garreg Mach come and go,  giving their condolences when he staggers by. They say things like telling him to take a break from work, telling him that everything will be alright, telling him that Jeralt was a good man when he was still alive; empty words that were rephrased and reiterated over, and over again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Manuela asked for his time, telling him that white magic wasn’t able to help Jeralt’s wound because the dagger was slathered in a peculiar poison that compromised the healing process. It compromised the crest itself, she assumes. </span>
  <span>It doesn’t cause him to have an urge to further scrutinize the murder weapon, instead there’s something that crosses his mind about Manuela performing an autopsy on his father without his consent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It frustrates him to the bone. He could kill her right there but Sothis hisses through a whisper. Byleth leaves the infirmary with no words to spare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeralt was gone. And nothing mattered anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They buried him beside his mother. He watched as the casket was lowered deep into the soil. Byleth doesn’t even notice that they ask him if he wanted to place the soil, his feet were planted to the ground, and he knew that if he stepped too close to Jeralt, he wouldn’t be able to stop his tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, he watched from a distance. There was the sound of sniffling and wailing in the air, there were soft pats on his shoulder, there were whispers in his ears, and there was silence in his head. There was nothing but the soil that covered his parent, and there was nothing but darkness beneath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the ceremony was concluded, he and Dimitri remained. He talked about how sorry he was about Jeralt's passing </span>
  <span>and other things along that context. They come as white noise just like every other word he heard that day. It’s a cycle, an endless mantra he’d rather not hear anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it’s hard to lose someone, but you know you can’t continue being like that for the rest of your days, Professor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It catches his attention. It’s a tone no one has given him in the past weeks. Byleth looks at Dimitri with disbelief, “How could you... how could you say that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please don’t misunderstand. I didn’t mean to sound rude, Professor, but consider thinking about it for now. Jeralt’s gone, but those who killed him continue to roam free... what will you do next?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that Dimitri leaves him alone with his parents resting beneath the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something about what he said that infuriated him, yet he couldn’t bring a fist to his face or even yell at him for it. He wasn’t wrong, Byleth knew at least that much. And somehow, when he thought about what his next course of action was, he stayed still and he realized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth realized that he was tired. So tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every night, he curled up in his bed, trying to become the smallest creature he could be so that he would disappear. He doesn’t acknowledge Sothis’s presence anymore, he doesn’t know that she’d attempt to comfort him because her words were drowned out by something else entirely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a simple buzzing in his head. When he closed his eyes, they became louder, loud enough for him to sit up and smash his head to the wall just for it to stop. And just when he thought he couldn’t cry anymore, he looks at his palms that catch the tears. He looks at them and they turn blurry. He blinks and he could see them clearly for a few seconds before they go back to being distorted. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>was distorted. The voices, the candlelight, the buzzing. The side of his head was already beginning to bruise and Dedue was probably getting bothered by the noise, so he slipped out of his quarters in the middle of the night, not knowing where his feet would take him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And they take him to the Captain's Quarters and once the smell wafts towards him, he’s crying again. His feet touch the carpet and there he lays down, shaking as the tears stream down his face. He tries to take in everything he could, he tries to remember. What it was like before all of this, before he was forced to sell his soul to protect the church, before he met the students— when it was him and his father, just them and the world with nothing to worry about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mind draws a blank instead. Just like it always did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeralt’s lingering scent doesn’t bring up any memory in his head. It’s just the same word, the same name, the same damn flower that comes up. Strangely, it brings him to sleep thinking about it. Fatigue overcomes him with a fragment that makes him both afraid and relieved at the same time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>——</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a notebook he found, but not even that brought back the memories. It was filled with short passages written by his father, it was updated day by day until the mission that took place by the church. The first pages were about his mother, every single detail about her written during the days when they first met, even to the day they had Byleth, it was just like watching how Jeralt described her back then along with the fondness in his eyes. Through his words, Byleth could see it again and he wouldn’t let himself forget it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother traded her life for their son who had no heartbeat and no voice. Byleth knew from the start that there was just something wrong with him, he wasn’t normal and even Jeralt himself wrote it down. He wasn’t normal, yet Jeralt still took Byleth with him. He brought him along when he could’ve just left him, he brought him along when he could’ve just killed him for taking his wife.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Byleth traces the words over the dried ink but he doesn’t read anymore. He can’t because he knew that if he kept going on the faint buzzing in his head would become louder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should’ve just died in the fire, Jeralt should’ve just let him die from the very start. If Byleth was gone, Jeralt would’ve lived, perhaps his mother's life would've been spared. If he didn’t exist, they would still be together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t deserve it, </span>
  <span>goddess</span>
  <span>, he didn’t deserve to live. If he just died now, everything would be—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s something hot that drips down his forehead and the buzzing comes to a stop. Bringing his hands in front of him, he sees that they’re painted red. It’s an indistinguishable feeling because he lets out a pathetic laugh while he’s sobbing. He pushed the notebook away from him because he was going to stain it with his undeserving blood and tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Knocks on the door come frequently, but no one attempts to open it because they know that he won’t respond. Byleth waits until they all leave. Once he knew that they were off to sleep, he sneaks out to the empty infirmary even when his blood had gone dry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>——</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t sleep. His head was ringing with the urge he tried so hard to ignore. The wounds were getting worse and he knew that there was no way to stop them unless he did something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only option he had was to run away. Run away from the monastery, the students, the archbishop, Jeralt, and especially himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth couldn’t bring himself to go back. He spent the nights in the Varely, passed out on beds, head reeling with alcohol, and breath smelling of stale liquor. He was asleep most of the day, and at night is where he’d maladroitly wash up then he’d stay in his usual spot by the bartender, drinking, and drinking until another man took him to the back of the tavern to ravish him then leave him in such a lurid state afterwards. It wasn’t quiet and it kept the buzzing away at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their words were indistinguishable when they whispered into his ear. Their touches have never felt so lethargic on his body, yet Byleth still managed to keep his mouth open, uttering noises that made their lips smile against his skin. No matter how much they touched him, kissed him, or made him sputter his noises, the were nothing against the people who filled the void of his mind. Somehow he could make out their expressions through the blur of their faces. They’re frowning to his infidelity, especially the blonde prince who spared him a glance before turning away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t notice what would happen to him the night before, not even when he sees himself in the mirror littered in bruises around his neck, running down his torso and crowding his inner thighs. There was no use counting the number of people he’s slept with nor the number of nights he’s been there because he barely had the consciousness to stay awake. No one was looking for him and no one told him to leave the place— he was actually more than welcome to stay for the income.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave the business profit.  With the rumors of a loose mercenary— the Ashen Demon himself lying by the bar and ready to be taken away in exchange for a few drinks was already enough for people to come flocking in. He’d exposed himself over the alcohol, and that didn’t even register in his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re familiar with the Blade Breaker?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m his son.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Didn’t he just pass away?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Aren’t you devastated over that?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth tipped the mug over his mouth as a response. Before they could give their condolences, he shut them up with his lips. Anything but the cycle, anything but that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They always had their eyes on him, more so after they knew who he was. He was the man by the counter— the son of a famous mercenary, always slumped over by a couple glasses of liquor, ready to be taken for anyone. And Byleth didn’t mind because he couldn’t care enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh... you’re so good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d take you home, but my wife—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span> with you?” He heard Sothis in the midst of his stupor but he pushed her away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have a lover?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A lover.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth just wrapped his arms tighter around the man that held him that night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A lover when it was the last thing he wanted. It was too painful for him to recall, so he begged them to go arduous— hurting him until he couldn’t feel the disconsolateness of his thoughts. He never ceased to do it, the endless nights seeming so short and so hollow just like his quiet heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just when he thought that his very reason to be alive was to rot in that tavern, a dispute came across. The conversation between two people, the howling and yelling was distorted to his ears as he was still slumped on the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... this man anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... you do, he’s mine tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was sickening how the voice sounded so familiar. He was beginning to recognize the words as the conversation carried on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, mine. And a couple more guys. We got ‘im reserved.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Reserved? What the hell are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you even doing here if you don’t know what the hell I’m talking about? You don’t even look like you’re supposed to be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I just have a look, sir?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! Don’t—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Teach?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Byleth opens his eyes, he’s faced with someone from the monastery, which was nearly the last thing he’d want at the moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The leader of the Golden Deer house looks at him in disbelief, the color of emerald green piercing through him. He isn’t in his Officer’s Academy uniform, but in a tanned blouse and darker trousers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Teach?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Is the Ashen Demon some kind of whore teacher? Didn’t know they had those these days.” Disgusting guffaws erupt around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m taking him,” Claude says, stepping closer to the professor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t get cocky with me, boy. We already told you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> taking him tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Teach, get ready. We’re getting out of here,” Claude whispers to Byleth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re just going to have to beat your ass. Kids like you have no place here anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And lecherous old bastards who want to plunge their soggy junk into any hole they see have no place anywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You little shit</span>
  <em>
    <span>—</span>
  </em>
  <span>“ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a loud whistle that resounds in the entire tavern followed by a sonorous roar that comes from above. Everyone’s shocked still by the noise when Claude hoists Byleth from his seat on the counter and sprints outside the place. The men chase after him when they realize that they’ve escaped, but are drawn back when they see the two atop a wyvern, Claude smirking at them mockingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were in the air before Byleth could properly grasp the situation; the breeze of the night sky brushed his flushed face and he could see how the  moonlight turned Claude’s wavy brown locks a shade lighter. The flapping of the wyvern’s wings motioned them up and down, it was no different from riding a horse and it made him nauseous. With his head aching horribly, he pressed his head against Claude’s chest to keep himself steady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll ask someone to take your horse back to the monastery, so hold on tight, Teach. We’re almost there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moon was high when Claude brought him to his quarters, carrying him all the way to his bed. The student took his coat off, placing it by the chair near the table. He gave an exhausted sigh when he took a seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It occurs to him clearly that he had caused enough trouble. Of course, there was no running away anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been gone for too long, Teach. Everyone's been worried sick ever since you went missing, they thought it was an abduction because your stuff was still in your room. As for Lady Rhea, she was in a state I’ve never seen her in… she sent another group of the knights just to look for you,” Claude explains, a look of worry etched on his brow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She sent... you too?” Byleth croaks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The students were ordered to stay. I went on my own accord and so did Dimitri.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oddly, he doesn’t feel sorry for inconveniencing everyone for what he’s done. He just feels light headed and inane, unable to even properly register what Claude was telling him. The only thing that registered something else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell anyone,” he murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll try my best to keep the rumors away, but Varley isn’t too far from here. You know that I can’t stop people from talking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth couldn't care less. His head was still swirling to the point where he’d say the first thing that came to his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wyvern...” Byleth breathes out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The wyvern? I actually, uh, borrowed it from Seteth... while he was asleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm… He’ll kill you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t take it against me, Teach. I wanted to find you. Well, more like everyone did. Especially, you know...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth continues to stare at him with half-lidded eyes, he keeps them there to the point Claude becomes uneasy enough to stand. “I’m afraid I stayed too long. Anyway goodnight, Teach!” He tucks the professor in and turns to leave, but Byleth grabs his arm in a swift motion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want... I want to thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No problem, Teach. Now, you gotta get some—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to thank you,” Byleth repeats, sitting up as he slides his arm up to Claude’s shoulder. His head is pounding but he’s still trying to bring Claude closer, his body moving on its own, his own mind struggling to reason his actions. Then there was the same look in their eyes. Claude was quick to catch on as always, but Byleth was too familiar with that expression. The student was masking it with pity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I have to go—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>doing?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Sothis bursts. “Don’t you lay a hand on him or you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ignores her, his hand was already slipping beneath the partition of his robes. He has his eyes trained on Claude, he watches the way his expression shifts, how his throat moves when he’s plucking the buttons one by one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know you don’t want this,” Claude says quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you,” Byleth argues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. You want Dimitri.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth keeps his mouth shut. He’s still frowning drunkenly, yet he’s unable to say anything because it was the truth he didn't want to admit to himseld. He hears it faintly at the back of his mind, and he knew he had to do something before it would rise and take over him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s silent between them until Claude bends down and kisses him gingerly on the lips. It’s a long, gentle kiss that it doesn’t make Byleth stick his tongue out almost immediately. He pulls back first to catch his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have my limits. Please don’t... don’t do this to yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Byleth pulls him back down, kissing him harder than before. Claude’s caught off guard, but by the time Byleth makes a noise against his lips, he’s gone. He pushes Byleth back down, kissing him equally as hard as Byleth did, perhaps a bit more when he began to open his mouth, lapping his tongue against the professor’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What will people say when they find out? This is…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth places a finger on Claude’s lips, “Who cares about what they think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Let them talk, Byleth thinks. Just let them talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But Dimitri. This isn’t...” Claude tries to reason in between kisses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None of that matters right now,” Byleth slides his thumb across Claude’s cheek. “Nothing matters except you and me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, Claude doesn’t hold back. Byleth still isn’t thinking straight, not because of the alcohol but because of the extreme forlornness deep inside him. Byleth isn’t as besotted as those times he did it with the others, it made him aware of himself and Claude’s movements. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all wrong. Sothis was screaming it in his head, and he already knew it himself. But he’s too dejected to even care, too dejected to even refuse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth could feel his body against his; the hesitant movements because they both knew that this was something they weren’t supposed to be doing at all. Byleth’s senses were so heightened, it made him regret not drinking more, regret not forgetting more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Teach?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth pulled Claude closer from his back, his chin was pressed on his shoulder and their heads positioned side by side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t hold back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just d-don’t hold back.” His voice was cracking in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fortunately for Byleth, Claude was quick to understand and decorous enough not to pull back. It was almost easy to understand what was going on because of the way Byleth’s body shook from beneath him, his uneven breathing, his trembling hands, and the wetness on his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of questioning him, he held him tighter, wishing that one day he’d be enough— that they’d be enough for the world or for fate to give them a better path in the life they never chose for themselves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was sinful, what Byleth did. Sothis was probably tired from screaming at him to stop but he was just so empty that he couldn’t even extrapolate how hollow he was anymore. When he felt the pain that night, he finally understood how hurt he really was— how broken and how pathetic. Claude went on as Byleth let out soft sobs on his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just wishing, wanting, and regretting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>——</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Almost everyone was relieved to see that Byleth was alive after he went missing for a week. He wouldn’t really describe their reactions as enthusiastic, more pitiful and somewhat relieved that he didn’t attempt to pull off a stunt that would lead to his death. The words they told him were no longer about Jeralt, but words of how important he was to them, how he needed to stay, and what they would’ve felt if he had gone missing for a longer period of time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth wished he was missing for a longer time though. There was no use doing anything anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no use, yet he still went back to teaching his class since he was already tasked with his duty. Rhea was sure to give him work so that he wouldn’t attempt to run away again. She’s gone to the slight extreme, retracting the privilege of professors and knights going out of the monastery with no reason and ordering the gatekeepers to guard the gates for the entire day. He knew it was his fault for that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought of the notebook he found back at the Captain’s Quarters and he could only conclude that there was something lurking beneath that serene grin she always gave him. Then again, it was his fault everyone was dragged into this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As always, it didn’t take long before rumors began to spread around the monastery. Merchants go in and out of the monastery all the time to trade supplies in neighboring cities. It’s obvious that Varley was one of those cities. It almost surprised him how quick it took the people to manipulate their view on a single person after hearing a few words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From pitiful words to whispers of malice. From worrisome glances to scornful, disgusted stares. It’s from a single story to the next, growing and spreading like a forest fire. It’s far too big to calm it down, it’s too late to tell the people to keep their mouths shut. It stayed the same for a while before it began to mutate.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Has he no shame? I heard that he’s done it with every single man in Varely.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Goddess. At this point, I’m sure he even laid a hand on one of his students.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He's nothing but a disgrace to his father.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s almost bizarre how those rumors were actually true. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth should’ve told Claude not to say anything at all. His attempted help on the matter aggravated the fire, there was suspicion in his actions since he was the one who brought him back to the monastery after all. It wasn’t long before the student was dragged to the gossip and there was no fixing it. He apologized to the student, not that it would do anything to save him from it but the guilt was overbearing. Claude simply shook his head with a pained smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine. Who cares about what they think… isn’t that what you said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was an utter fool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What else could he expect from a person who didn’t want people talking in the first place? What else could he expect when people called him a filthy immigrant who slept with his whore of a teacher.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything seemed to fall apart from there, perhaps it was all falling apart from the very start. Just when he thought he had the right to pity only himself, he dragged people into this mess because of his carelessness, even sullying the good name of the monastery. Rhea should just slaughter him for all he cared. That way, people would stop questioning why they would bring their children to Garreg Mach and Byleth wouldn’t have to keep causing havoc because of his actions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she killed him, he wouldn’t have to look at the forlorn look on Dimitri’s face every time their eyes met. Byleth was the topic of the rumors, the one stared at everywhere he went like there was something strange on his face, the one being screamed at, the one being ridiculed, yet Dimitri looked as though the world was crumbling before his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re just... rumors, right Professor?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was fortunate enough that his class and some other students around the monastery refused to believe that it was true. They defended him every time even when he never asked them to. Byleth saw Dimitri speak out once, but once he turned away, his face would scrunch up like the words he said left a bitter taste in his mouth. As much as he wanted to believe it wasn’t true, he was in a state of conflict. And Byleth couldn’t blame him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth wasn't killed even when he wished for it. He was still a professor and the archbishop looked at him the same way. There wasn’t a hint of disgust in her face even when it was clear that people have begun quibbling about her incompetence since she assigned such a filthy person to be a professor at Garreg Mach. There would’ve been letters sent to the monastery, calling for his removal or letters saying that they would no longer enroll their children there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he doesn't see them at all. Even when he visited Seteth’s office, there were no letters to be found, Byleth could only assume that there were none at all or Seteth just hid them very well. Just when he was looking for the letters, Seteth happened to pass by, not so appalled by the fact that someone was turning his office upside down. Instead he frowned, and Byleth already knew what that meant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He braced himself for a lecture or a statement regarding his removal, but Seteth just let out a sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You better fix this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s all he ever said to him despite everything that happened. Even when the people spoke of Rhea’s silence and even when people questioned the church for allowing such acts, that’s all Seteth said to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth already knew what Seteth meant by ‘fixing’ and that meant he was to stay silent no matter what. No one was going to listen, no one was going to trust his words even if he were to tell a good lie because it was already burning. If he opened his mouth, the flame would burn brighter and perhaps the issue would go beyond the point of no return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only way to fix everything was to wait, wait until the gossip dies down like it always would. It’s the stage where he’d have to endure the rising point of the rumors, the stares people of the monastery gave him, the hands sliding around his waist when he went to the market, the soldier’s teases about bringing him to their beds. With the urge to cut them down before they could say anything else, Byleth couldn’t lay a hand on them. Fighting fire with fire didn’t solve anything, waiting was the only option he really had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If the Divine Pulse could bring him further into the past, Byleth would’ve taken that change and do everything all over again. But he was too exhausted to even go seconds back, his mind was weak and foggy. Sothis knew his attempts, but she kept quiet about it. She was quiet ever since the incident with Claude. She wasn’t asleep, she was probably exasperated with him since he refused to listen to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head was a mess the entire time. Now that he was conscious, there was no room for being reckless but there was room for the thoughts he attempted to bury until they would hopefully. Other than his emptiness, his thinking led him back to the enemy. He pondered over the thought until he couldn’t stop thinking about it, about the blood on his hands and their mangled body before him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought had to fade somehow, but Dimitri came along with news that piqued his interest and intensified his hunger. Despite their uneasy terms, Byleth listened to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was looking for the professor when the prince caught sight of the Flame Emperor and Monica along with another man having a conversation just outside the monastery walls. Dimitri told him that he would’ve taken them on at that moment, but they all disappeared without a trace before he could carry out his plan. There’s no other explanation for their conversation other than Flame Emperor being linked to the Tragedy of Duscur and every skirmish that’s transpired in the past months.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re the bastards that killed my family and your father,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dimitri also told him about what he overheard from Seteth. There, he finally knew Rhea was hiding the fact that the knights have finally located the enemy’s hideout in the Sealed Forest. The information was never disseminated to him, but he couldn’t care about that more than making the enemy suffer. This was something he should've done from the very start. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This </span>
  </em>
  <span>was his answer to Dimitri’s question back then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dimitri tells him Rhea would leave the monastery to eradicate them herself along with the remaining soldiers in two days. Byleth knew that he had to leave tomorrow if he were to kill them off himself without anyone knowing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll join you, Professor,” Dimitri says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? No— this a fight I have to settle on my own.” It was more of not wanting to drag anyone into the heap of a mess he’s created. Most especially his students.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But Professor—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know how dangerous they are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you that your enemies are our enemies, so let us fight with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already said </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dimitri grabs his wrist and it takes Byleth by surprise, “Why can’t you just be grateful that there are people willing to stay by your side despite everything that’s happened? Why can’t you take the offer and just thank us for it after— </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> do you have to keep pushing people away?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why indeed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just… I don’t want to—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To what? To owe us? To get closer to us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, just let me finish, Dimitri.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it enough that we don’t believe what the others say? Isn’t it enough that we still look at you the same way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why I don’t want my students to be a part of—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then just think of it as a </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn </span>
  </em>
  <span>compensation for all of it! If you didn’t want us fighting by your side from the very start, you shouldn’t have chosen us then. If you didn’t want us to be a part of this, you shouldn’t have been our professor from the start.” He takes a sharp inhale. “But there’s no going back now, there’s no changing the past because your problem is </span>
  <em>
    <span>our </span>
  </em>
  <span>problem now. The only thing you can do now is to let us go with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as he wanted to land a punch on Dimitri for his tone and rudeness, he couldn't because he knew that he was right. There was no way to reverse time, there was no way to fix what he’s done. It’s far too late because he’s dragged them into this, he was going to bring his own students to what might be a slaughter. He couldn’t just allow it, but everything was going against him. The grasp of what he had on things were loosening as the time marched; Byleth knew he had no choice but to give in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one would listen to him, nearly everyone’s lost the respect they’ve given him despite the fact that he was an orphan, consumed by bloodlust and lost in the hollow subconscious of his own mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he needed the gates open, he needed to get them all out of the monastery without alerting Rhea. The Blue Lions could be expelled if things have gone south, but that didn’t matter as much as the enemy at hand. He thinks about how it’s not his fault just to boost his morale somehow, but he knew that it was all a lie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do we avoid getting caught?” Dedue asks over class hours where the rest of the students were listening to the plan of attack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought about it. Killing the guards of that morning would definitely be an easier way to get through, but it was messy and as much as he shouldn’t care, they didn’t deserve to die for no reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bribe. An exchange. That’s all he needed to get through the morning where there were the least soldiers on duty. He didn’t need a letter, he didn’t need to forge Rhea’s signature to get out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have money and he didn’t have something valuable enough on his hands. All he had was himself and that’s what he needed. The gossip hasn’t died down and he knows it won’t any time soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave it to me,” Byleth says. “Just be sure that you’re all ready to ride out immediately.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a perfect guess. An uncertain stunt he did just to get out of the monastery, but thank the goddess those group of men wanted the same thing. When his robes fell by his feet, they took him all at once and there’s no denying that the rumors were true. Byleth swore nothing to himself because he had to do it. He had to do it to avenge his father.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They promised him that they would keep their mouths shut, they swore to him that they wouldn’t tell a single soul about that night and their plan to sneak out. They could tell other people about that night for all he cared, but he’d kill them if their plan was leaked to the archbishop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the evening before they would head out for the morning when a soldier hung himself in the forest outside of the monastery. It made the knees of students quiver, but they had to go on with the plan no matter what. With everyone travelling to another world in their slumber, the Blue Lions and their professor take the horses from the stables and head for the Sealed Forest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until they were halted by the archbishop standing by the main entrance to the monastery. And it occurs to him that the soldier who killed himself that morning was one of the soldiers he slept with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a warning he failed to notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seteth was with her, and Byleth could already see the disappointment clouding his expression. Byleth couldn’t care less about what they thought to see him like that; he was being problematic and stubborn, yet they’re not even killing him for it. He waits for her to expel him and the students from the monastery, but instead, she begs him to stay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tells him that he shouldn’t act carelessly because they can’t afford to lose him right after Jeralt had passed away. The enemies were unknown, there’s no putting a limit to how much they can do. Byleth didn’t want to listen, he didn’t want to listen but he couldn’t utter a word to stop her and let them go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes him by surprise when Dimitri begins to defend their actions; he was practically talking back to the archbishop herself. He explains how they shouldn't leave the monastery unattended, how the knights won’t make it to the forest in time if they were to take a trip to the monastery before heading to battle, and how their class could handle the situation since a number of them had relics in hand. There was no time to be shocked by what Dimitri did, but Byleth silently hoped that horrible consequences wouldn’t follow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rhea paused for a while in deep thought, her pale green eyes were on Byleth the entire time she stayed silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Destroy them. That is my order to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as he wanted to leave immediately, Rhea tells them that they must go with the remaining soldiers who will serve as their battalions. They needed more people to fight of course, it wasn’t a problem allowing company, yet seeing Rhea’s softened expression already signified an underlying scheme. Byleth lets it go for now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>——</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Through the thicket of trees, Byleth could already see her in the distance. His face turned hot and his blood was boiling to the memory that resurfaced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before the battle had begun, she had morphed into a different form, the skin of the student melting down her rancid appearance. It was just like Tomas back in Remire Village. They were all like wolves in sheep’s clothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dimitri glanced towards Byleth’s direction, waiting for any order or motivational words to come from him, but he was silent. The professor looked aimlessly into the distance, and anyone— literally anyone could tell that his thirst for revenge was pulsating through his entire being.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just when the signal was at the tip of his tongue, Byleth began to run through the field, itching to kill that damned monster who killed his father. Mercilessly slashing enemies in his path, he left the rest of his allies behind, even his own battalion. It wasn’t the strategy that he and the rest talked about prior to the battle, but it didn’t matter at that point. Her suffering was the only thing that mattered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And when he had finally reached her, his hunger possessed him. She was weaker than she looked, her bones were fragile like glass and she was slower than any knight or student he’s ever sparred with. She ran her mouth until she couldn’t; no one was there to watch the way she begged for mercy, she was flailing around and asking for help when he had pinned her on the ground with his heel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was sobbing, there was something about it that made everything oddly unsatisfying. Byleth intended to make her suffer more than she should— he should be giving her a suffering more painful than being in hell, but there was nothing in the options he had in mind that seemed to pull through. He dug the tip of his blade into her skin, mindlessly dragging zig zags and tearing her open. He knows that he’s supposed to feel content somehow, but her screams just made him feel worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this really what Jeralt would have wanted?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sothis says it quietly and he stops dragging his sword. Was this what Jeralt really would've wanted?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s no other choice but to end it immediately before he could regret doing so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Byleth almost sunk his blade into her throat, the man who disguised himself as Tomas appears after a beam of magenta crashes on the ground as fast as lightning. It aggravates Byleth more, with the anger fuming within, he grips his sword tight and thrusts it forward, but an intense force coming like a gust of wind throws him off. Giving a slight grunt as he gets up, he’s suddenly watching the enemy suffering in the hands of Solon. He’s tearing her open through cuts he’s made and she’s letting out such a blood curdling scream that makes Byeth flinch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It happens too quickly. She falls on the ground and there’s something in Solon’s hands. It grows larger, and larger until he realizes that it’s engulfing him no matter how fast he ran away from it. He struggled until he couldn’t tell whether he’s opening his eyes or not. Byleth squints, then he blinks hard enough for him to know that his eyes were open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s dark and quiet. The Divine Pulse doesn’t work when he attempts to turn back time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, he realizes that he was sent into a world of nothingness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re an </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolute </span>
  </em>
  <span>fool! Do you have any idea what you have got us into? We are stuck in darkness! A world entirely separate from yours!” Sothis appears on her throne, her face all crumpled up in anger. It was almost so foreign just hearing her voice after such a long time. He doesn’t address that he felt relieved to have her by his side despite the circumstances. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth doesn’t speak, he sets his gaze on the sword in his hands, surrounded by the darkness of the void itself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you even listening to me? Do you want to die here?” her patience runs thin through her tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter if I die. It’s meaningless... everything is meaningless,” Byleth says. He waits for another round of Sothis’s shouting but instead she gives a helpless sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really are a fool,” she says quietly. “I know... I know that it has not been easy for you lately , but do you not recall the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>said to you? ‘To never yield on those who continue to live’ and To ‘live’... ‘To live for what you believe in?’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth stays silent but Sothis continues, “There in the other world, people await your return. Your troops, your students, your friends— those who stand by you despite everything that happened. Those people need you as their hope, and I need not the power to look into the future to see that because everything is in the past itself. Your father would not want to see you live to avenge him, he would want you to live for yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Through the darkness of the void around him, he could feel his mind dissociating— dissociating to the point he could feel his presence. A hand on his shoulder, with the warmth of hot ginger tea, the musty scent of beer, and soft orange sunset by the monastery garden. The rough mellow humming when he lay on his lap, the stinging pain of a cut from a sharp blade, an insalubrious indigo bruise from a training sword; they appear around him one by one, slowly pulling him in closer, and closer until he could remember the way embracing him felt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You may not understand his words for now, but all you could do is live to find for yourself. Change it. Change your revenge into something that would not end up corrupting you, but to something that would eventually bring the world back to what it was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks up at Sothis, who gives him a small smile, “I know you have much to regret, even with the power of the Divine Pulse. But even if you are given the power to go back in time, the greatest power you have is to manipulate the present. You are given a purpose in the other world— you are given a reason to live. You would to figure that out in the end, isn't that right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just when his mind has calmed down, he begins to understand. He doesn’t need to say anything because he knows that Sothis understood exactly what he thought of. He nods and Sothis gives him a genuine smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you recall your father’s notes, you can tell that your emotions were dimmed because of me. But even so, you grasped the feeling of having your own self. I am glad that I have seen you grow in one way or another.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stands up from her throne. Much to Byleth’s confusion he steps back, “Where are you going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is time that you and I become one. The only way out of here is to have the power of a progenitor god.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A… progenitor god?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once, Rhea spoke of the goddess Sothis. That time, he and Sothis were unable to believe since it could’ve been a mere coincidence or the truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In the time of my absence, I tried recalling some memories of you and myself. Jeralt’s notebook gave an inkling, then a vision, just turning back time all by myself.” She watches her feet as he steps down, “They came as fragments just like how yours do. There were people… people who smiled when they faced my way. There were children who slept from a lullaby, children I called my own. And there was a man, who had his sword raised at me. Through that and especially through you, I finally recognized that I was the progenitor god who watched over Fódland and its people. I was the goddess who died and returned through you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s suddenly nauseous thinking that he’s been with </span>
  <em>
    <span>the</span>
  </em>
  <span> goddess the entire time. Somewhere along their time together, he did think that she could've been the goddess, but knowing that it was true made his throat go dry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reaches the final step down the stairs, “You and I must be one to escape this place. I must give you the power of the progenitor god since I lack a body of my own after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happens after that then? What will happen to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Once I have given you all of my power, I shall disappear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her statement grabs him by the throat. Byleth shakes his head, “I-I won’t take it then. I won’t allow you to disappear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will not exactly disappear, but I will </span>
  <span>always </span>
  <span>be with you. Though we will not be granted the chance to speak with one another, the power you will wield will serve as a sign that I’m with you. I believe that this power will not be just mere means to escape this place, but for something far, far greater than that. I know that because the power will be yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I don’t… I don’t want the power in exchange for you,” Byleth pushed. “I still need you by my side because we’re friends aren’t we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course we are. You and I will stay friends until the bitter end, Byleth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face was crumpling more than he thought it would, Byleth thinks about how it’s so unfair for him to leave, but she smiles at him in return, “I am sure you will manage, which is why I trust you more than you know. Even when I may not have acted like a goddess, I truly enjoyed my time with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She aligns her small hand against Byleth's palm, “Before I go, I have recovered a fragment of your memory as I sought for mine. This might be the only gift I could give you for everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’ve already given me enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She giggles, “Still a charm, huh? It is not much, trust me. Just like the rest of your memories, do not push them away. Close your eyes… and wait for them to come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hesitantly, Byleth closes his eyes. He isn’t sure if Sothis was going to disappear once he opened them, there’s the urge to open them to the light, but the darkness was soon painted in color. He doesn’t open his eyes because he’s in a field, the blurriness made the plants and the hand he held quite smudged somehow. His fingers were small, his hand was being held gingerly as they trudged through the sea of blue and violet. His mouth opens but there are no words that come out, the only thing Byleth hears is his father’s laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s only his face that seemed clear out of everything else he saw. He’s smiling as he ruffles his hair before taking something that seems like a flower in his hand. Jeralt’s mouth forms into a word that’s familiar to Byleth before he tucks it behind his ear. The scent, the sensation, the faint sounds, they were all too realistic. He sought for the warmth, he wanted to stay in the memory but he knew that he had to let go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens his eyes and he sees Sothis once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for everything, Sothis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An overwhelming power surges through him, it’s like a world collapsing against his entire being. He’s taking it all in until he can’t, the hollow was being filled with something else entirely and he felt like he was going to burst open at any moment. He bites his lip at the overwhelming force, his now glowing hand grips the sword tighter. When he swings it, the darkness splits open. He enters and he steps on the ground of the forest center.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone who saw had their mouths hanging open. Solon’s expressionless face changed into something else entirely, every muscle in his body was rigid in fear. He acts quickly, new enemies are wrapped around the forest and he moves further away from the being that had conquered the darkness. Byleth sees how the rest of his allies were right behind him, when he nods, they know it’s the signal to charge forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s quick on his feet and the sword feels lighter in his hand. He cuts the enemies down as he moves north of the terrain, when he catches a glimpse of the soldiers, they were all in masks that he’s never seen before. Their blood was darker than maroon and their hands were as pale as the moonlight. He’s distracted by the appearance of the new reinforcements when a lance was poised to strike him from behind. When he whips his head back, his arm thrusts forward instinctively and he already knows that it was not the smartest move to make since the blade would meet his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But no pain comes. He looks at his arm, but it’s not there anymore. Byleth could scream but Annette, who witnesses from a distance, does it before he opens his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gloves and armor tore off. His forearm was completely covered with silver scales that lead to a four-fingered hand that resembled a reptile’s. One of the large claws had impaled the rider’s chest, his lance was dropped on the floor. Byleth felt himself sweat, the soldiers who fought by his side were at a loss for words; all of them seemed to share the same emotions at that moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was panicking. There were still other enemies up ahead, so he ordered the others to keep going while he settled his dilemma. Byleth was afraid he was becoming a monster, but he reminded himself to breathe, hoping that it would revert back. He squeezed his eyes shut and thought hard. When he flexed his fingers, he opened his eyes to see that it was back to how it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moving forward was the only option he had despite everyone’s confusion and shock when everything about him seemed to happen all at once. Just when he thought the oddities would only occur once, there were muscle spasms near his shoulder blades. It compromised his equilibrium, he had to take a step back because of his shaky movements.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright, Professor?” Dimitri asks with concern as he hops off his horse’s back. “Retreat if you must, you can leave this to—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dimitri’s caught by surprise when he grasps the prince’s arm to keep him from falling. With his other hand, he unclasps his coat and holds onto Dimitri with a tight grip. There was something protruding from in between his shoulder blades, the more he panicked, the more it pushed against his skin. This time, he couldn’t seem to calm himself down, he couldn’t pace his breathing right even when he held onto Dimitri. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It pushes until he feels the very moment of his skin tearing apart. He swallows his scream and hunches forward to the pain. It’s like he’s broken a bone where the sharp fibers impale out of him, but instead of breaking a bone, he’s grown another one. It’s two that pierce through, he hears them tearing the fabric and clicking past one another. Dimitri isn’t looking at him anymore, but at the strange phenomenon that was forming in between Byleth’s scapulae.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Professor… what's happening?” Dimitri says in utter shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I- I really don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It scared him not knowing exactly what was going on. They were in the middle of a battle and he was growing something that might end up killing him, there were just too many things going on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are those… ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Squeezing his shoulder blades back, there was something caught in between. When he stands, the weight of it dawns on him, he’s looking over his shoulder to where his extra bones protruded. Somehow being able to spread, he sees that they’ve divided into four crooked sectors that were all connected with thin silver skin that formed a web-like shape. He thinks of them as fingers despite his puzzled state, he stretched and compressed them as a test. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t waste time on being confused, the battle was ongoing and Byleth knew he had to put a stop to it as quickly as he could. Whatever the strange phenomenon behind the outrageous changes, Byleth would use it to his advantage for now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth gives Dimitri one last look before he takes his sword and starts off with a jump that would take him to the air. He falls the first time, not being able to move them in sync but it takes him further from where he was, higher than he could reach. It became quite difficult to dodge since they were in the way, but it acts like a shield of sorts, deflecting arrows that hit the skin. He attempted to take flight even when the air seemed to be pushing him down, he spread his wings even when his feet touched the ground, he spread them even when he was finally faced with Solon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wings don’t make you any more powerful. You are nothing but a false god.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dark magic is thrown in his direction and he covers himself with his wing, which was an adverse mistake since it exploded against his skin, it burns and sizzles for quite some time and he knew he had dodged properly this time. He needed to get closer to attack, he knew he wouldn’t get anywhere because the orbs were coming towards him faster than he could dodge them. He was definitely slower because they were dragged across the floor every time he moved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had to be retracted somehow, he couldn’t aim his sword properly when he kept moving around. With his current state of mind, he knows that he won’t be able to end it like that, the only option was to use it to his advantage even when he couldn’t use them right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dodges another round of orbs that are hurled towards him, then he takes off shakily and ruins the horizontal trajectory of where they’re thrown. When Solon’s distracted by aiming, Byleth folds the wings to get closer to the ground before detaching his sword into sections and swinging it towards the target. The blade goes through his chest and Solon falls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This… this is not the end,” Byleth hears Solon say as his consciousness begins to fade. “Our mission carries on... now that you are here…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth has no words for him because he’s distracted by how the rest of Solon’s troops disappear through a warp. It’s disappointing that they weren’t able to take them all down, but he knew he had to move on and get back to the monastery before Rhea would do something questionable to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dimitri meets him halfway towards the troops, he’s still gawking at the wings Byleth had on his back. Byleth couldn’t take them away, he didn’t know how to make them disappear or retract into his body if he could. He had no idea about what was happening to him, but he was sure that his surroundings seemed to spin quite a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose you’re willing to tell me the reason why you have a different eye and hair color, along with the reason why you seem to possess a supernatural ability.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t realize until he noticed it himself. He brings a lock of hair to his line of sight, seeing that they were somewhat lighter than his original hair color. It’s a hue that brings familiarity, it’s like he’s become related to someone else other than his father. Seeing his hair change made him feel uneasy, it’s like the burden he carried seemed to worsen. Thinking about it made his head pound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sure about everything that happened back there, but the goddess gifted me her power.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was that look on Dimitri’s face again. He’s making that face where he’s trying so hard to choose whether he should place his faith on the professor or not. Byleth couldn’t blame him since he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a liar after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess that might be true seeing what had transpired…” Dimitri glances off. “It’s quite similar to a legend of old, don’t you think?” The prince was attempting to make small talk between them, though the tension Byleth felt between them couldn’t seem to ease itself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What legend?” Byleth doesn’t know whether his wings or the fighting made him exhausted. Perhaps it was the new eye color that was making everything seem like it’s tilting slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The legend of Saint Seiros, she received a Divine Revelation from the goddess and was gifted with her power to defeat an enemy who had gone mad with it. Perhaps, the goddess saw what Saint Seiros had in you and gave you her power to restore the world as it should be.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s seen it in one of the old texts in the library. There’s just something about the legend that didn’t sit right with him, though he couldn’t really understand why. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sothis did mention about the fragments of her restored  memory, if she was the goddess herself and she spoke nothing of giving her power to anyone, the legend was false. Then again, they might have been only fragments of what her life was, there was no telling whether she passed her power to someone before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wouldn’t that be a crucial memory to her though? If she knew, would she even say a word about it to Byleth? Did she not remember or was it that unimportant? How come it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>who received her power out of all the people in the world? All of sudden, everything seems so vague and perplexing, his dizziness gets worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dimitri speaks more about the legend but Byleth could no longer hear his words. The ground was shaking beneath his feet and the man who spoke in front of him blurs with the rest of his surroundings. It’s blurry until it goes dark, his shoulder hits the ground first and he’s out like a dead candle flame. The last thing he remembers is the faint scent of sandalwood close to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>P e g a s u s  M o o n</em>
  </b>
  <b></b>
</p><p>
  <span>When he wakes up in his quarters, it’s clear that he’s not alone. He’s laying on someone’s lap and she’s humming a familiar song that he heard during the day of the ball. His now light shaded hair was being caressed gingerly, he keeps his eyes closed because she stops humming. Once she says a word, Byleth knows it’s Rhea who spoke. It’s odd because she was mumbling words he couldn’t seem to understand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s difficult to pretend he was asleep when her fingers were suddenly on him. She’s tracing the shape of his eyes, it drags down to his nose, then to his mouth, then to the underside of his jaw. It’s a terrifying thought that if he opened his eyes, she’d be starting right at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his eyes a bit, he tried to see through the small gap and his lashes before squeezing them shut. Rhea doesn't catch him awake, thankfully she was looking somewhere else as she continued to brush through the locks of his hair. But the angle from which Byleth saw her for a split second, he couldn’t help but think she appeared quite insane. Seeing the corner of her lips outstretched and showing her teeth as she smiled was a first, but she was grinning at the air and nothing else.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I knew… I knew this day would come.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s thankful she trails off her words after a while, he wouldn’t know what he’d do if something odd comes from her mouth again. Her fingers suddenly feel like fire against his scalp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seteth seemed pale during their meeting in the Audience Chamber the next day, he was eyeing Byleth with such uncertainty before his eyes would flicker back to Rhea as she explained his objective for the month. It’s either she was ignoring Seteth or she was overjoyed by her own words, she spoke of the Divine Revelation and how Byleth needed to receive the word of the goddess now that he had her power. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was all so addling to him. He didn’t think that Sothis would have anything else to say to him now that they were one. The ceremony wasn’t explained to him anymore, though he highly doubted that it would be able to bring Sothis back. There was just something that didn’t feel right, something that struck the uneasiness within when he saw the way the corner of Rhea’s lips curved upwards. Seteth turns his head away, telling him that his students were to come along before dismissing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t even have a choice whether he could bring them along or not because Rhea says that Saint Seiros had her warriors alongside her when she received the goddess’s power. She guarantees that they'll be safe from harm, but Byleth isn’t too sure about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The change in his appearance didn’t help in calming him down. His wings were gone by the time he woke up, but his hair and eyes stayed different. When Byleth saw himself in the mirror, it’s as though he saw someone else. The shade of color seemed to have a glow to it, but he thinks it’s probably the lighting of his room that made it look that way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth examines the palm of his hand, unsure if it were still a part of who he was. He takes a deep breath and imagines the way his forearm shifted before. There was a cracking noise as the scales began to emerge from beneath his skin, for a moment he panics and they grow quicker as his fingers tremble to form larger joints. Then remembers to calm himself, he remembers that he’s the one in control. The shifting slows down as he focuses, he watches how the claws revert back to his own fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a Sunday before there were classes, he decided to spend it away from the monastery. He was supposed to give a letter to Rhea that he’d leave for a supply run, but Seteth takes the letter instead. Byleth watches as he squints over his handwriting, then he places the parchment down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is not for a supply run, am I right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just when Byleth thought that he was a supernatural being, he thinks that it might’ve been Seteth all along. Byleth wasn’t a very good liar, but his response came quicker than his excuse in mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s for a supply run,” is what he manages to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seteth stayed clearly unamused. He’s not looking straight into his eyes, but at something below his face. Byleth hesitantly rubs a spot right beside his chin then he realizes that he felt something else other than his skin. He runs his fingers across it and the scales flip over like a fish gill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A supply run, hm?” Seteth taps his quill against the table. “You will fail to keep it a secret if you have no control over it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth isn’t sure whether the news of him turning into some sort of demon in the recent battle was told to the archbishop, seeing Seteth nonchalant about it seems like they were told. Byleth thought Seteth would at least appear wide-eyed since it wasn’t normal after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t really a secret though?” The words come out reluctantly. It’s more forgiving than if he said it with vigor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a fool to think that anyone would find that a prosaic phenomenon of sorts. Your students may have been quiet about it, but others won’t do the same, especially with the reputation you hold right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t say anything, because Seteth was right. No one’s ever heard of humans shifting into demons unless they were possessed by evil or something that came straight from hell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about the others who saw me shift?” Byleth asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is…” Seteth trails off his words. “Rhea already took responsibility for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth already had an inkling of how she took responsibility for it. There’s no guarantee anyone would keep their mouth shut, he’s already learnt that from attempting to escape. The only way to assure they’ll keep quiet is to completely remove their ability to speak. It makes him nauseous thinking about how Ashe told him the other day that he saw bodies being shipped into carts when the sun wasn’t out. He witnessed Rhea executing deviants, but this was an entirely different issue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t think of it now, nor could he do anything about the soldiers who were killed. Byleth could hope and simply ask for forgiveness as he drowned in his own guilt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he was careless, the rumors would worsen and the names of the dead would pile up along with his responsibilities. Byleth was walking on eggshells and he would continue to walk on them unless he did something to overwrite the stories they told about him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seteth sighs. “Follow me,” he stands from his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s walking down the stairs as Byleth tailed him. “Don’t we need a letter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not if I am your guardian, and Professor,” Seteth stops abruptly, Byleth almost bumps his nose against his shoulder. Seteth faces him and taps the side of his chin, “Kindly hide them before we head out.” Byleth breathes in until the scales retreat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seteth told him to wear his coat over his head until they stopped walking. They were near the monastery, but not so close to the nearest town; it was an open space where the sun shone right above them. There was no one else around when Seteth said it’s fine to take the coat off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t quite sure why Seteth was helping him, quite the irony since Byleth was nothing but a youngster who was reckless and who didn’t deserve a job in Garreg Mach. Perhaps it was pity, or simply a favor in exchange for rescuing Flayn months ago, regardless, he just had to be grateful for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just like training, except it wasn’t with any weapon, but with the power he held in his blood. Seteth ordered him to shift whatever part he could; he examined him from a distance, furrowing his brow and placing his index over his lip. Shifting was a dawdling process for him when he noticed the way Seteth was watching intently. Byleth knew it was quicker before, yet they spent most moments in silence while he waited for his claws to form.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One big inhale before you exhale sharply,” Seteth says. Byleth raises a brow. “Try it with your arm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth takes one big gulp of air, slowly raising his arm parallel to the ground, then gives a quick exhale through his mouth. More scales rise this time, but the force doesn’t reach his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try again, but with more force this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does it again, this time envisioning a string being pulled back before he lets go. Byleth thrust his arm forward and it turned into cleaved talons just like before. He shifts back and does it again just as quick and turns to Seteth, who gives him a nod of approval. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Similar using a bow, Byleth would like to think. It’s a familiar choice of words as to what Seteth told him; it’s the fundamentals of using a bow anyway. Jeralt was cross with the bow, yet Byleth himself was quite skilled at it. There was something that was left from the past, something that’s been brought up to that very day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembers how Sothis tells them to come even when he doesn’t want them to. Suddenly, his arm stays outstretched towards the empty field. For a moment, he sees himself with a bow in his hands, he’s grasping it tight as he pulls the string back to his lips. Then there’s a hand on his chest, another one pressed against his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breathe in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth feels so small. There’s someone behind him to keep him from trembling, but it irritates him because he knows he can manage on his own. It’s laughter he hears, not Jeralt’s, not his, but someone else’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t push me away, oh don’t push me away, Bluebell.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Almost a sweet melody he would allow himself to sing. Almost as sweet as the sweat dripping down the side of his cheek that day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you release it, breathe out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” Seteth asks him and he snaps back into the field he’s in. Byleth doesn’t realize that he’s hunched over with his hands on his knees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Yes… I’m alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can always continue some other time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can keep going,” Byleth insists, though he did feel slight fatigue from shifting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The handling of magic was easier than before. When his fire orbs lacked impact, they seemed to have more of a push to it in the moment he tested them out. He practiced basic spells until he had the urge to try something else. He does a high scale spell that he could never seem to master, when he recites the words under his breath, he thinks he's going to get thrown back by the force like he always did. But he’s still on his feet when the spell crackles in his hands. After the attack, he realizes that it drains him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes the entire morning to realize that the power had limitations just as the Divine Pulse did. Shifting also ate up his energy, his blood was some sort of manipulative mechanism that allowed him to be a dragon— </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>a demon, Seteth corrected him with a frown on his face. If Byleth wasn’t focused enough to regulate his breathing, the shifting would occur spontaneously just like the scales he didn’t notice on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn't be an actual dragon either, shifting both arms at once drained him greatly, he felt like he was being torn apart in such a way. The wings were probably the worst part to shift since they came as a pair that tore through the skin of his back every time. Shifting had its own powerful quirks, yet it had great disadvantages like turning back time. He could only shift one part at a time in the expense of his own energy; Byleth thinks that if he were to shift into a full dragon, he’d be torn apart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You possess too much power. I believe it runs on your blood; therefore, if you were to surpass the limit and the power has taken all over your blood, it will eventually eat you alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no significance trying to do a full shift since he couldn’t exactly use shifting with his face out in the open. It would give people more reasons as to why they should loathe his existence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know all of this?” Byleth asks Seteth, who seems to stop breathing for a moment. He did appreciate the help, but it’s like he knew exactly what was happening to Byleth. Seteth was a human who gave his guidance to a supernatural. He’s so calm about the entire situation when it was told that man shifting to dragons were nothing but myth, it’s almost like he’s seen one before, unless he was—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Most of them were bluffs, though I will admit, teaching you is somewhat… nostalgic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps it was nostalgic in a sense if he were a former professor in the monastery, Byleth couldn’t really put his finger on it. The questions were on the tip of his tongue, but Seteth stands to leave without a word. It’s clear that there was no longer room for his questioning, so Byleth follows him back to the monastery and leaves it at that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had around two weeks before the Divine Revelation ceremony and the days seemed to slip by so quickly. Byleth wasn’t too sure about what he was to do with the mission since it was a ceremony after all, he didn’t have any sort of map he could write on to fix their formations or plan out their strategies. There was basically no battle he had to prepare for, so he read by the book, going on for hours and hours about the history of Fódland and basic strategies with mathematical equations included. His voice became a lullaby, even for Dimitri who always listened intently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lessons were enervating, but Sylvain was gallant enough to butt in and ask him about the new abilities he had. Ingrid shoots him a glare, but Sylvain laughs instead, “Lady Rhea told us it’s fine to talk about it as long as we’re the only ones, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rhea never told him that, Byleth wasn’t even sure she knew in the first place. But knowing that she demanded the secrecy of his power from his own students just made Byleth think she was disputable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sees they’re awake, eyes boring into him as they await something from their professor. There’s no blaming them for being curious since it was something out of the ordinary, Byleth thinks that even if Rhea didn’t tell them to keep their mouth shut, they would’ve done it anyway. Seeing them all look attentive for once in hours of speaking, Byleth gives in. He pulls his sleeve back and breathes in before letting out an exhale, the scales stop until his wrist. He doesn’t shift his hand anymore because he knows that he won’t be able to hold a book that way, though it doesn’t really matter since they began to stand from their seats to get a closer look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I, Professor?” Flayn asks, her hand hovering over his forearm. The silver scales reflect the sunlight that enters the room onto her fingers in spots of white.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, extending his arm towards her. She gives the faintest strokes over them before she recoils in slight shock before mellowing down to a smile. Somehow, his shifting relieves them all from boredom, the ones who usually had a difficult time concentrating during class were intrigued by the scales, some saying that they were almost as tough as steel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Won’t you take a look, Your Highness?” Mercedes asks Dimitri, who watched from behind as everyone crowded the professor. Even now, Byleth couldn’t look at him straight in the eye and neither could he.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright. I’m satisfied watching from here,” Dimitri dismisses and no one insists after that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s obvious that Byleth wasn’t the only one who noticed Dimitri’s worsened complexion after the battle. The bags under his eyes were dark and he was actually falling asleep in classes when he never did before. He was lacking sleep and the other students told him about it. Felix, who had a room beside his, was always angry at Dimitri, though these days, something else seemed to aggravate him more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He complained about the loud noises in the middle of the night that seem to be coming from his quarters. “I’ll talk to him,” was Byleth’s response to Felix, though he didn’t have the heart to speak to him because he already knew what was going to happen next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He and Dimitri haven’t spoken to each other about anything outside classes or duties. There were no words to spare after everything that’s happened. Somehow, Byleth knew he was being pushed away, every topic he brought up, every time he attempted to be concerned about his well being seemed to all backfire through arguments they never had before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It becomes worse when the days go by and people start noticing how much Byleth’s appearance changed. When he’s in the monastery, he was practically vulnerable since everyone saw how he looked. Rhea probably kept it as no secret to the people that he was going to have a Divine Revelation from the goddess, and the news aggravated them more. It’s no doubt that new rumors sprout out of nowhere, some of them false, some of them true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse than them knowing he received the power of the goddess, some people began calling him the goddess herself. Their only evidence was his appearance change and nothing more, people loathed him for it, some began to think it was right to worship him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Perhaps the goddess finally returned!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Through a whore? I can hardly believe any of that nonsense.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Should we even have faith anymore?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no speaking from him just like before. Rhea keeps her silence on the matter, but she strengthens the security instead since word goes around as fast as a blink of an eye and people from outside begin breaking in just to see Byleth for themselves. It’s a disaster he couldn’t do anything about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s puzzled, mostly wallowing in the feeling that he’s undeserving of anything. Byleth knows Jeralt won’t like it if he refuses to move on and attempt to fix things, but he’s sitting in front of him in the graveyard when no one’s around. Everyone was already tangled up in the mess, and the only thing he could do was tell them to stay silent instead of making it worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the prince was defending him like always even when they weren’t on the best terms, and when Byleth told him to stop, Dimitri would raise his voice at him like Byleth was the one who started the fight in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course he doesn’t back down for his own sake, shouting about how rude he was to him and everything about knowing his place as a student. Dimitri was always on the verge of calling Byleth out for his hypocrisy, but he bit his tongue before he could take the words back. Most of their conversations end up with him stomping away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth taught the orphans himself, though only a fraction of them would appear since the priests in charge of them have become wary of the rumors. He also had tea with students who were still willing to see his face. He had sparring lessons, only the ones with rules set up and the ones he had to grade. Their bond faltered and there’s no fixing the damage because he was going to fall into the trap he’s set up for himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If only he didn’t reciprocate that kiss back then. If only he wasn’t too deluded by his own emotions to turn back time. If only he knew why he liked Dimitri and why he was so afraid of it. Perhaps he would have the answers if he were normal. But he was a teacher, a leader, an orphan, a whore, and a goddess all at once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was everything and nothing all at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Professor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns to Seteth, and he recalls where he is. They’re in Rhodos Coast on a Friday afternoon after battling a group of heretics -as Seteth claims- from the Western Church. He asked Hanemann to teach the students for him when he was ordered to defeat enemies who dared to sully sacred grounds. There’s no telling whether the grounds were truly sacred or if it was just another legend that was passed around, but seeing Seteth’s outburst for the first time makes Byleth want to believe it’s just a coast in Fódland.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flayn is my daughter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth forgot that he actually had an ongoing conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is my father,” Flayn supplies when Seteth chooses to shoot a glare at Byleth instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were a lot of things happening again, though he can’t do anything but stare at them wide-eyed. They were on the coast where Seteth’s late wife and Flayn’s mother was, somehow Byleth thinks that they falsified Flayn’s identity well considering how Seteth looked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth lets them reminisce with their sea in their view. They speak about fishing and cooking, things that gave them happiness and things from the coast that seemed to fade over the years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How the years have been…” Seteth sighs. “If only I could go back and relive those moments.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am afraid we cannot do that, father,” Flayn smiles as she shakes her head, “We must move on and live in the present moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To find another reason… a reason to keep going no matter what, those were her words, yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter how deserving and wrecked he was, Byleth knew he had to keep moving forward and learn from the past he failed to change. When he looks at the view of the sea, he watches the waves crash against the shorelines. There’s a thought of him wanting to swim away or to drown and never come back up, but he was given these names, these roles, and these powers for a reason. He might as well keep going to find out what came next even if his existence inconvenienced others.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>——</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re really as pretty as they say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I overheard the priests saying that you were the goddess herself. They looked kinda angry talking about it, but I don’t really understand why. You’re so beautiful after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since that compliment was coming from a child, it makes him less bothered than he usually was. It’s just the issue about him being the goddess that makes him flinch a bit. People keep talking about it, and he can’t even convince them that he wasn’t the goddess who would bring salvation to Fódland. Byleth didn’t even know what the hell he was anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As a response he forces out a laugh and ruffles the orphans curly locks. It’s a trivial matter but it brings him joy knowing that he stays even after their lessons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And who told you that only pretty people make a goddess?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one. But I imagine the goddess to be beautiful and powerful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that so?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm. You definitely have both traits, Professor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there was that feeling of being so unworthy of that moment. A priest who was to escort that child back to his place shot a heated glare at him. It was the last day of those lessons, and he knew he’d have to put a stop to these things if he didn’t want anyone to get dragged into his mess. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave his final goodbye, hoping that the future wouldn’t be so cruel to the child for meeting him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>——</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know that the revelation required him sitting on the throne that was awfully familiar to him. Rhea, Seteth, Byleth and the rest of the Blue Lions were the only ones in the Holy Tomb, and he didn’t even know that there was such a vast space sealed from the world. There were columns of tombs and stands of crest stones lined up beside them. From the large mechanism that brought them underground, they’re immediately faced with a large throne in the distance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second, he sees her again, walking down the stairs during her final moments with him, and he wishes that he never had to exchange his friend for her powers. He wonders what Sothis would say at that moment, he wonders how she would react when Rhea tells him to sit on the throne.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her fingers are in his hair again, twirling his locks and asking him whether the throne was familiar to him or not. Byleth tells the truth, which he regrets almost instantly because there’s that grin on her face again. She ushers him to take a seat on the throne, but Byleth hesitates, confused whether this was still a part of the ceremony or not. When he’s nearing the throne, he could tell that she was trying her best not to burst out in joy— or perhaps another expression he'd rather not see. Even his students were puzzled over the way Rhea looked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s odd because it’s Sothis who sat on that throne— it was the goddess who sat on that very throne. When he takes a seat, Byleth keeps his back straight because he knew that Sothis would scold him if she were there. Not only that, but the voices that tell him he was the goddess made him think that he had to at least live up to the name somehow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A second passes when everyone seems to stop breathing, they wait for something to happen, but there’s nothing but dead silence. Rhea’s giddy expression turns dark. It catches him off guard somehow when she’s nearing him. She places on the throne’s arm, then she begins to mumble incoherent words as she inspects the throne and the ceiling above them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What in the world am I doing wrong?” He hears her say. “But we were only a step away from getting you back… oh, what <em>is</em> it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eccentric movement was disconcerting and Byleth knew he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. From moving and looking around too much, the archbishop’s headdress stood lopsided on her head as she shifted her gaze to Byleth the back to the throne.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She comes to the throne seat then grabs him by the shoulders, she squeezes them lightly when her face reverts back to the smile that no longer seemed serene to him. The Blue Lions noticeably tense from the action, but they can’t do anything about it since she was the archbishop after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you feel anything? Anything stirring within? Perhaps fatigue?” Her tone is sharper this time, it sends a chill down his spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-No,” Byleth says, trying to pull back from her grip, but it’s firm on the fabric of his clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps a little dizzy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you feel anything at <em>all?"</em></span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her grip tightens and it causes him to wince. Dimitri takes a step but Seteth holds up a hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rhea,” Seteth says with a warning tone. “That’s enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rhea loosens her grip, but she’s still holding onto him. She was a thread away from going insane, Byleth could already feel. This time she was thinking out loud about what to do in that situation. Byleth hoped that she would let go but she sparks up with an idea instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps I should just chain you onto the throne here unti—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Intruders!” Dimitri calls out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That catches Rhea’s attention. Whipping her head around, she sees an army of Imperial soldiers who entered through the mechanism that led them underground. The one leading the troops was the Flame Emperor himself. All of a sudden, the feeling of his blood boiling resurfaced upon seeing their presence, but he knew that he had to think well before he moved a muscle or else he was bound to make more mistakes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a sight that derives numerous thoughts. The Flame Emperor with the Imperial troops, the Flame Emperor with the Death Knight, the Flame Emperor with Tomas and the others, it all formed a full circle of enemies that linked to each other, forming a large group with objectives unknown. Rhea clearly isn’t amused with their presence, everyone near the throne jolts at her sudden outburst when the intruders begin to take the crest stones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Retrieve the crest stones and kill them </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Do not let a single one escape.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They can’t refuse direct orders from her. Being outnumbered in troops and unprepared with formations, they commence the battle anyway. Thank the goddess they had their weapons with them, but they’re basically shaken up with such an encounter just like that time they went underground. But this time, they weren’t going to lose because they were caught off guard. Now that he had the power of the goddess, he had to use it to his advantage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raises the hood over his head, and breathes in. When he exhales, his arm becomes his sword as he’s able to take a battalion down with a swing. He catches a glimpse of Dimitri’s on the other side of the mausoleum, and he can tell that he’s more aggravated than usual. Byleth heard him mutter something about Duscur the time he caught sight of the Flame Emperor, and it’s no surprise that this was going to be his chance to end the one who took away everyone he loved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth would do the same, he really would. But he knew that Jeralt would tell him that he was better than that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t last too long after taking down battalion after battalion, tombstones were splattered in blood and the floor was filled with corpses of Imperial soldiers. The fatigue was already weighing on his shoulder so he shifted back when he and Dimitri had reached the Flame Emperor. Before he could feel any more of Dimitri’s fuming from distance, he advanced toward the opponent immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth flagellated his sword in the Flame Emperor’s direction repeatedly. The sword’s sectors spread apart and extended towards the Flame Emperor. It struck him twice until his mask was struck off his face, sliding all the way to the top edge of Dimitri’s boot. A lock of long gray hair fell from beneath the mask and perhaps not only Byleth, but the rest of the people who were left, paused much to their shock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edelgard stood in a bulky cloak, with a look of perseverance despite her loss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thoughts whiz incessantly in his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tomas. Solon. Monica. Kronya. Jeritza. Death Knight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Flame Emperor. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Edelgard</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edelgard was behind Jeralt’s—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All was silent in the Holy Mausoleum. Until a sound of soft wheezing turned into a loud, deranged laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth turned behind him to see Dimitri laughing hysterically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this...” Dimitri looks up, face contorted with anguish and pure indignation. “Is this some kind of twisted </span>
  <em>
    <span>joke!?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His tone sent a shiver down Byleth’s spine. He never heard Dimitri so infuriated. By the time Dimitri began walking, Byleth could feel his pulse rising when he heard the sound of the mask crumbling under Dimitri’s feet. Byleth saw the rest of Edelgard’s soldiers standing ready to attack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s going to be an ambush, Byleth thinks, until Dimitri begins to walk towards them with his lance poised to slay those who came his way. He attempts to stop him by taking his shoulder before it’s too late, but he’s shoved away harshly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will take that head off your shoulders...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And <em>hang</em> it on the gates of Enbarr!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, it was too late to stop Dimitri as he came sprinting towards Edelgard with a dark, twisted grin on his lips. Soldiers began to charge towards him, chanting words for their new emperor. But Dimitri couldn’t care less as he impaled them with his lance, landed hits on them using his hands; the crisp sounds of cracking skulls against the cold pavement echoed through the entire mausoleum. Dimitri aimed his lance towards Edelgard and hurled it towards her direction, the blade barely scraping against her cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> It was all the things he could’ve done to Kronya, but couldn’t. It was simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>inhumane</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one could interfere because Dimitri had gone berserk, he could kill anyone when they got too close. When he was near Edelgard herself, another soldier came running towards Dimitri. Before the soldier had the chance to draw his sword, Dimitri had caught a grasp of the man’s neck. Other than the soldier’s strangled cry, there was the sound of slightly popping rising up to a loud snap that reverberated in everyone’s ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man slumped down and lay still by Dimitri’s feet. Poised to kill, Dimitri stood a few steps away from Edelgard. They were exchanging words, Dimitri looking as infuriated as ever and shouting though Byleth couldn’t hear because he wasn’t close enough. He rushed over to Dimitri when the student began to raise his balled fist at Edelgard. Instead of being able to land a hit, he strikes only the beam of light Edelgard disappears from, fettering small sparks into the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Byleth reaches him, Dimitri stares into the distance, darkness clouding his entire facade. “Dimitri—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t get her. That <em>bastard</em>,” he snarls. “Let’s go back. I’m sure you already know what we have to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walks past Byleth before he could even say anything. There wasn’t anything he could say in the first place anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>N</span>
  <span>ow that word would spread about Edelgard being the true identity of the Flame Emperor, the tension would only pick up from there and rise up ceaselessly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tension that would end up to an inevitable outcome that no one would want.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>L o n e  M o o n</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>The Empire declares a war against the Church of Seiros.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Citizens in towns near the monastery were told to evacuate as the Edelgard’s troops were heading towards them. In two weeks time, they would be launching an attack and it’s certain that people would get killed in every direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The month where students were supposedly graduating from the academy —getting ready for exams, planning out their future, and saying their goodbyes, they were preparing for a war instead. Gathering resources, doing weapon training, some running back home knowing very well that their chances of returning would be close to none once the battle began.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once Rhea was notified that the students were fleeing without a word, she didn’t allow them to leave the monastery as ironic as it was. The amount of troops Edelgard had on her side was unknown, and no matter how many soldiers Rhea sent for information, they would never return. So even when the students cried and begged to send them home, Rhea refused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one had time to talk, not with the situation at hand; panic rose when the word came out about the war and the truth that Edelgard was the traitor among them. Students from the Black Eagle house cracked under distress, some of them disappeared without a trace before Rhea could even notice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand tells Byleth about how his other classmates were gone the day before the declaration of war and how his father was stripped of his power. It’s no surprise that Edelgard had the strongest nobles of the Empire by her side, since she was the new emperor, she could easily join forces with those willing to stay and kill those who opposed her. Linhardt says something similar about the Adrestian Empire’s Minister of Military Affairs and the Minister of Domestic Affairs, his and Caspar’s father shared a fraction of the emperor’s power as she had control of finances and the military. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My father must have joined her just to not get killed. Can’t exactly blame him for that, but it doesn’t necessarily mean I agree with him either,” he shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t mention that Caspar was one of the other students who disappeared, the bruise on his face already spoke for itself. This war was bound to separate even the closest people because it solely depended on what beliefs a person stood for, if the worst were to come, they would even have to kill old acquaintances. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth prays it doesn’t come to that point as he takes in the rest of the Black Eagles who were left behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the chaos, he couldn’t afford to waste time. They had two weeks before Edelgard came and every single day seemed to pass as quick as a blink of an eye even on the days he couldn’t get a wink of sleep. Orders came from one place, then another, asking him to fix their battle formations outside the monastery, asking him to list down the new volunteers— they were asking him to do this and that, yet he doesn’t refuse. He was grateful that no one had the time to gossip about him due to the war. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one seemed to care about him leading their next battle, so long as he could somehow lead them to victory, that was all that mattered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fatigue caught up to him, and he knew he couldn’t allow that. He needed rest days before the battle or he wouldn’t be able to shift when he needed to. He asks Gilbert to sort out the troops as he hands him the long list of soldiers he’s been staring at. Before he could even head to his quarters, Rhea orders him to enter the Audience Chamber with the default smile plastered on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hasn’t forgotten about what she did, but no one can focus on that, not with what was going on. Byleth keeps himself wary, he doesn’t step too close to her, because she could grab him from an arm’s distance. He was the one with the goddess’s power, yet there was something that made him think that Rhea was something more than he was. She clearly knew something that he didn’t about himself and that’s what scared him the most.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing from a certain distance eased  his nerves, but Rhea wanted nothing more than to talk. The archbishop spoke of how they were outnumbered and how this circumstance would likely lead to Rhea joining the battle herself. It’s cynical how his actions led to this. She clearly doesn’t know he’s been helping other students escape, if she knew, he wondered how fate would play out since she’s been killing people left and right, trying to protect him— or keep him locked up all this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth was conflicted as to whether he wanted her dead or not, there was a fine line between a ‘yes’ and an ‘I don’t know’. She wanted him for something he didn’t know, she also managed to make Jeralt so disturbed by her presence that he had to run away; the archbishop was an enigma Byleth wanted to decipher because if he had her figured out, there was a slight possibility he would attain something from his own past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If something were to happen to me during the battle, I entrust my duties to you, Professor,” Rhea says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But… why me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your memories are only beginning to return, but I am sure you already know that you are the only one who can lead the people of Fódland.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’m not—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They already call you the goddess, do they not? They have waited long for your return and so have I… for many, many years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those words come from her mouth and all of a sudden it clicks. When she called him ‘Professor’, a wave of realization suddenly overcame him and he knew that the name was nothing more than a shell. Rhea no longer saw him as Byleth Eisner, but the goddess Sothis herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it’s just like the first time when he was appointed as a professor, it’s not because of the smile on her face or the mellowness of her voice, but the lack of refusal he could give. He was handed the power of the goddess so that he could escape from the darkness, but there was something more to it that he couldn’t just waste. He nods to her as a response and turns to leave the Audience Chamber before anything else would happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The days fly by and much to Byleth’s surprise, his students were level-headed and calm about the whole situation. They stuck to their training, and if they were afraid about the upcoming battle, they kept quiet about it. Byleth knew that they didn’t want to bother him with things that might be trivial at that moment. Though he wished he could be there for them in one way or another, he was caught up in his duties. All he could do is maximize their chances of survival and silently appreciate them for their consideration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth still kept an eye on them, especially the prince, whose behavior changed drastically after the incident in the Holy Mausoleum. He stayed silent most of the time, sometimes he’d mumble something out of the blue that stayed incoherent with him, Byleth didn’t know whether he was talking to him or himself. It’s clear that he isn’t getting any sleep either, his eyes were half-lidded, and he had that far-off gaze like he wasn’t aware that he was still breathing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth knew there was something about Dimitri that was quite aberrant when they first met, but now it seemed aggrandized, more peculiar. Byleth was concerned about him, but every time he questioned him, Dimitri would dismiss the subject or it would all boil down to another argument.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t have you talking like that!” Byleth exclaims when Dimitri brushed him off again with a retort. It aggravated Byleth more than usual as his stress from his work took a toll on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dimitri, stop being so damn persistent and listen to m—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of a sudden he pinned to the wall harshly, the impact echoes through the corridors as Dimitri’s hand is pressed against his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want my attention, Professor? Now you have it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something snaps within him. Before he even realized, he already lifted his fist that connected to Dimitri’s jaw. The prince’s face whips to the side, Byleth almost regrets punching him but he knew that it had to be done somehow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will not tolerate that tone from you,” Byleth says sternly. Dimitri was getting too out of hand, he knew that this could at least snap him out of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But instead of having a realization, Dimitri silently lifts his fist. It catches him off guard and he knew he had to react quickly even when he was still being pinned against the wall. It’s already near him, Byleth squeezes his eyes shut and whips his head away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fist doesn’t hit him, but a part of the wall inches away from where he was. He missed on purpose, but he’s rather shocked at the fact Dimitri even attempted to hit him. Dimitri himself was in a state of shock from his own actions. He lets him go and leaves without a word. Byleth doesn’t attempt to talk to him anymore even after seeing the crumbling bricks on the wall. He was rendered useless to the prince after that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>——</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sooner than ever, the day of the battle had come. The knights and soldiers readied their weapons; Catherine asked Byleth if they were ready to position themselves by the sectors outside Garreg Mach because the Imperial troops have already invaded the outer cities, and if they were to stall any longer, the local nobles will no longer have a chance to see tomorrow. Byleth informs her that they’d be ready in a short while, it makes him jittery hearing that the troops they were about to face were immense but he does his best not to think about it but the victory they needed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without knowing the casualties of this big battle, especially when the opponent was led by Edelgard herself, it made Byleth not want his students to go anymore. He doesn’t want to think of it as the final moments they would have with each other, he never wanted to think about how he would never see them again once they’ve joined their battalions and entered the battlefield. But he can’t take any chances, if this was truly their last battle, Byleth would have to say something— something that would keep them alive, or something that they could keep close to their hearts and remember for the rest of their lives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now that he was left alone with his class, he found nothing to say. All that filled his mind was his disquietude of letting them go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t even understand why he felt so attached even when he tried so hard not to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look nervous, Professor,” Annette says worriedly. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of... of course. We must do our best today after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was silent. His students watched him, Byleth knowing very well that they could see right through him. Now that his body was his, he was vulnerable to emotion, or perhaps his students already knew him more than he knew himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be nervous, Professor. We can do this, just like all of our other battles,” Ingrid says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvain agrees, “Yeah, I mean, we trained relentlessly for this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And your teaching skills are unmatched,” Felix adds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can definitely win if it’s with you,” Ashe nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have faith in us, Professor!” Mercedes chirps. Byleth smiles and thanks them, glad that his students were as invigorated as they were in their very first battle together. He refuses to think it would be the last time he’d see them. If he had to fall into the pit of his nightmares just to see him again, he would do it just to guarantee that he’d see them again. Unfortunately, the only way to guarantee that was to make sure they survive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your Highness? What’s wrong?” Dedue asks Dimitri, probably bothered by his peculiar silence on the matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright, Dimitri?” Byleth asks him the same question for the nth time this month. He knows that they were far from being on good terms but he couldn’t leave him alone since Dimitri was still his student.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dimitri laughs, it wasn’t a sarcastic laugh though his eyes were still dark and his eyebrows furrowed. “Oh, I’m more than alright! In fact, I’m exhilarated to begin this battle. I can’t wait... to win.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one said a word after that; they didn’t want to. It was a good thing that Catherine and Shamir called them in for battle immediately after that. When everyone went ahead, Byleth called Dimitri before he had to get into position.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth attempts to place his hand on his shoulder to catch Dimitri’s attention, “Dimitri—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand is slapped quite harshly, making Byleth hiss at the pain. Much to Dimitri’s shock, he apologizes, “I’m— I’m sorry, Professor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” Byleth assures, rubbing the spot over his wrist. What genuinely surprises him more than the slap was the fact that Dimitri apologized for it when he’s been so cold to him the entire time. Perhaps he was just filled with anger towards Byleth and Edelgard, there were just too many emotions for him to sort out, but the Dimitri he once knew was still there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just wanted to tell you to... you know, not lose your control out there. I know it’s been hard, but—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, Professor. I’m always in control. And I will be until I have her head.” Dimitri gives a nefarious grin, “Oh, I finally have the answer to their pleas. I know very well what they want now and I will give it to them as they watch her skull breaking in my hands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, he turns to leave. Byleth wanted to tell Dimitri, apologize rather, for lying to him. There were other things on Dimitri’s mind, but perhaps if Byleth would tell him the truth, the burden would ease Dimitri a bit and if he was lucky enough, he'd be forgiven for that. He hoped that the cloudiness of his eyes would clear and that he’d smile again sometime soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth swore to himself that when they finally finish this battle, he’d say it. Whether he was afraid or not, he’d apologize and tell him properly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>——</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The battle was favoring their side, though it still didn’t seem like it. The soldiers from the empire seemed to decrease in the duration of the battle, Byleth couldn’t tell whether they were really gone or they simply retreated, but he had his arm shifted and he cleared them out as he did with his sword. When Byleth caught view of one of his students, they all seemed worn out, but thankfully not covered in any major injuries. Dimitri sped ahead of all of them but Byleth finds himself encountering Edelgard first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was difficult to maneuver a shifted arm and an unshifted arm at the same time, it caused him to lightly sprain his left shoulder when enemies came charging from left and right. He reverts the shifted arm back because that was the only way he could handle his sword adeptly. Fatigue was slowly eating him up and he knew that he couldn't bring himself to shift anytime soon. With his ragged breathing, he slid the hood off his head and positioned himself for combat against Edelgard’s axe of silver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, look at you. Jeralt never told me his son was the goddess,” Edelgard says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And to think you could replace me through this method— through a </span>
  <span>war</span>
  <em>
    <span>,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Byleth growls, “Do you really think that you’ll have all the power in the world by doing this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do anything for my ambitions, even if it costs me my life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even if it costs a thousand other lives? Even if it cost </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>father’s life?” Byleth asks painfully from a distance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edelgard’s expression changes from anger to that of dismay. “Of course, it’s natural for you to suspect me since you’ve seen me with them countless times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What exactly are you trying to tell me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you believe me if I told you that I took no part in Jeralt’s death? Would you believe that I would’ve stopped them if I could?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As much as I wanted to, I can’t. I’ve seen enough of what you did as the Flame Emperor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Their objectives and the Flame Emperor’s do not akin."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t change the fact that you were behind his death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But ask yourself this," she pauses. "Why would I even kill Jeralt in the first place?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said it yourself. You’ll kill anyone,” Byleth snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do whatever it takes to achieve my goals, but I would never kill without any rationale. That man was always willing to teach me his techniques. To be blunt, I got along with Jeralt.” Edelgard lets out a tired sigh, “Even if I try to defend my cause, It’s not as if you’d choose to believe me anyway. This is a waste of time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raises her axe, “If only you were my ally, everything would’ve been so much easier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edelgard was able to dodge the attacks of the sword when Byleth extended it, but not for long. She had neared him while he attacked that way, swinging her intricate axe into the air, ever ready to slice his arm off. Byleth reformed his sword and blocked her swing before it could reach his shoulder. The weapons quiver to the force of their arm, Edelgard grinding her teeth as she pressed down further, Byleth’s arms convulsing to keep them from getting torn off by the sharp tip of the axe. When he finally finds an opening, he hooks his foot under her ankle to make Edelgard lose her equilibrium. She wobbles forward, the sword tearing deeply through the skin of her cheek, the axe digging beneath his armor and impaling the spot near his collar bone. They retreat from each other by a few steps and breathe heavily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edelgard straightens immediately, wrapping her fingers around the axe tightly and ready to charge again. Byleth raises his sword, but his left shoulder complains, the fresh wound on his chest also aching somewhat tremendously. Edelgard, letting out a cry as she charged forward, swung with full force despite her fatigue. He knew he could shift, but it would take too long for that. Instead, Byleth sheathed his sword and thrusted his palm outward. He clumsily discharged the fire accumulated from the palm of his hand, the orb sizzling and turning quickly in the air. She's caught off guard and dodges the first attack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs weakly, “How unfair, I didn’t anticipate that. Never did I see you use magic on the battlefield.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The axe swings towards his direction again, nipping at the side of his neck as it sliced a fair amount of hair off. Byleth anticipates for an opening. He waits, and waits until she raises her axe again, so he thrusts his palms upwards, the orb aimed towards her chest. Edegard wasn’t quick enough for the second. She’s caught by surprise, the orb colliding against her forearm when she turns to protect herself, the force plummeting her to the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edelgard swipes the blood from across her cheek as she staggers on to her feet with the support of her silver axe. Byleth positioned himself to attack again but she raises a hand, “Sorry, Professor, but I do not intend to die today. I must pull back for now, however... your battle ends here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shouts to the rest of her soldiers, “Send in the rest of the troops!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns back to Byleth, “I hope that one day, we could talk about the real enemy... perhaps the day would come, perhaps it never will.” She gives him a small smile, “But for sure, one of us will meet their end the next time we fight like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like in the Holy Mausoleum, she disappears from his sight. Byleth’s attention to her was drowned by the cry of soldiers. Not a few soldiers, but a massive amount of them on their way to Garreg Mach. Byleth staggered back to where Rhea was to inform her about the excessive reinforcements Edelgard had brought. Both of them knew that the Church didn’t have troops anymore to fight that many enemies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rhea places a hand on Byleth’s uninjured shoulder, “I’ll handle this. Evacuate and take care of the others.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could even oppose, Rhea slowly morphs into another creature in front of him. He’s at a loss for words when he sees white scales forming on her cheeks, she grows as her joints relocate, the flesh of her back tears and her blood forms into wings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was in the full form of a dragon. Rhea was just like him, except she could shift to the entire form. She wasn’t human, she was clearly something more than that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rhea was… she was—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sets off into the air, her wings bring her up into the sunset and Byleth could see the clear figure of a dragon. She lands onto the village grounds and breathes a beam of light onto the soldiers of the Empire, putrefying their skin, consuming the muscles beneath, and disintegrating their bones. Byleth fends them off as well until the ground shakes under the weight of the demonic beasts of the Empire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Numerous beasts come, tackling Rhea as she falls onto a towering wall of Garreg Mach. She roars in lividity and sinks her teeth into the flesh, impaling their skin to tear them off her. Despite that, Rhea struggled with their number. There’s a quick debate in his head whether he could assist her or not, but when he saw her struggling, he couldn't help it anymore. He took his coat off to tie around his waist. He breathes out his wings and takes off towards the beasts to crack their masks open. Rhea threw the rest of the beasts off her and the giant creature looked at Byleth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you to run,” she growls, “at this rate they’ll—“ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sound of magic assemblage cut her off. They whipped their head towards the sound, but it was too late as Byleth was faced with a sphere of dark magic headed towards him. He attempts to block it with his wings, but the aftershock throws him easily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s flung to the cliff and his heart leaps to his throat as his hand catches the edge of a stone. Legs swing below him, a dark, endless gap under his very being. His pulse rings loudly in his ears as his fingers are slipping off the stone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Byleth could fly, he knew that very well, but his wings were stunned from the magic, he couldn't move them the way he wanted to. Byleth knows that he can’t do two shifts at once, but he tries to shift to get a better grip with his claw, but he’s not breathing properly. He does his best to exhale and the edge of his claws form.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had no time to think, no time to reminisce if it was his last moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s trembling and he’s afraid of falling just like he always was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A rumble from the ground makes his claws slip off the stone. He acts fast and attempts to move his wings, but they stay folded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s falling. And he’s afraid. </span>
  <span>The sound of roaring drowns the scream he lets out as he falls into the darkness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last thing he was able to think of was the orange sky and the words he failed to say that day.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i'll do my best to update next week, no promises though. sorry again for the delay and thanks for all the support. it means the world to me.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“His locks were a lighter shade than the yellowness of chamomile pollen and it’s a color I could never properly compare to anything. Even his lashes were that color as they would disappear under the sunlight. They were a lot softer than they looked.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>— written in a hollow vessel‘s notebook, retrieved from the King’s quarters</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ahhh i thought i could actually post in somewhere in between that one week but i guess i failed. yikes, apologies for that. had a lot of things to fix in this one since my english isn’t the best, but hope you guys enjoy this chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b> <em>G u a r d i a n  M o o n</em> </b>
</p><p>Darkness was just like the water.</p><p>The calm current passed by in one direction. Inside, the water slips through fingers, arms, legs; moving, and pushing it away, but it stays still. He was still in the same spot, never traveling, never going anywhere. Underwater, he can breathe, though blind to the surroundings. </p><p>It was silent, no voices, no music, the only sound similar to a beating of a heart, yet it’s odd how he could define it as that. He’s heard it, he tries to channel the sensation in his chest even when he knew very well it was impossible.</p><p>It’s a wish, it’s a dream, it’s remained as something that was never meant to be his.</p><p>Time stops there. There’s no telling how long it’s been, yet he swam through the cold, bitter darkness that swallowed him whole.</p><p>He recalls being in a similar situation before, though it wasn’t as lonely as this. There was this absurd understanding he had solidarity with someone and there was nothing to be afraid of, even in the depths of the void that contained absolutely nothing. Now, he recalled that very moment, he reminisced of the vague memories that brought him bliss in those days. </p><p>Perhaps being lonely was something to be afraid of. </p><p>There was someone. Someone too was afraid of being in that certain darkness. Someone who scolded him for his reckless actions that led them there. Someone who had their fate tied to his.</p><p>Someone named Sothis.</p><p>Just when the name came to mind, the darkness painted a blur of a familiar scenery. There she sat on her throne, head propped on her hand, face distorted to a vague blur. </p><p>“I am glad you recalled on your own. It was difficult to pull you out of your state,” she says.</p><p>Unable to say a word, he squints at the sight of her figure.</p><p>“It has been sometime, has it not? I’m more than glad to see you again,” Byleth could hear the smile in her voice. </p><p>It was truly refreshing to see her again though he couldn’t make out her features. It felt as though it were years since they last spoke like this.</p><p>“So am I,” Byleth nods. </p><p>It had to be a dream, but if it weren’t, he’d stay there forever. He had questions, he had doubts about everything and perhaps the urge to run away again. Sothis was there again, the favors and questions were hanging on the tip of his tongue but he bit them back.</p><p>“You have been asleep for far too long.”</p><p>Byleth gives Sothis a strange look. He recalls falling and nothing after it. Surviving such a thing must’ve been the work of a goddess, the thought makes him restive.</p><p>“I am afraid you have been gone for so long, you must awaken once more.”</p><p>Of course, he’d have no other choice but to wake up and face the world as he did before. It’s simply unsettling because it’s as though he was granted rest for a fleeting moment. Surely, by the time he wakes up, things would’ve gone better and he wouldn’t have to worry himself over certain things. </p><p>“But we won… didn’t we?” Byleth asks.</p><p>The pause was unnerving, every second that passed made his stomach turn. </p><p>Her figure turned away, “They’re weeping. The smell of blood that enrobes the earth. Where the spears that dug themselves into the ground, souls are trapped. It’s tainted in confusion, chaos. They are unable to understand— they are desperate... so they kill. They kill to survive.”</p><p>It was a given from the very start. Things have gone south after that battle. Peace would never come so easily, and he’d have to come back to regain it for Fodland. </p><p>“Which is why you must wake up,” Sothis says. “ It isn’t over yet, your duties are yet to be fulfilled.”</p><p>His duties. Even there it came so vague to him. His duties or the goddess’s duties? Were his duties even the goddess’s duties in the first place? Just what was his significance with the power, and what was his significance without it? Byleth didn’t want to open his eyes, he wouldn’t know what to do if he did.</p><p>“Why are you hesitating?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Why do you hesitate to wake up?”</p><p>It’s his duty. It’s his duty but it’s also the goddess’s duty. Was he really the goddess now? Was he going to be enough to be the goddess who would restore Fódland to its rightful state? Was he even <em> enough </em> for the task?</p><p>Byleth knew he shouldn't hesitate, but he thinks of Sothis taking over his entire being instead. Not that it was possible to do that since they’ve already established their union, but there’s no doubt she would’ve done better than he ever could.  </p><p>There were questions whirling in his head, suggestions that refused to leave his mouth; he didn’t want to wake, not now when he didn’t know what he’d do next. He could fall asleep again, he wanted to but the pressure was building up within; there was no telling whether it was the underlying guilt, anxiety, or the feeling that urged him to wake in the hopes for a positive future. </p><p>It’s in the midst of a build, and he knows he is running out of time. He was going to wake up soon whether he liked it or not and so Sothis was bound to leave him again. It’s pressuring him, he’s feeling nauseous like a student who’s about to take their exams. He is about to fix everything alone, do everything alone and keep himself moving when he can’t. He asks her a single question out of all the questions he had in store. </p><p>“Who am I?”</p><p>Just who was he indeed. A son. An orphan. A teacher. A whore. An abnormal. A goddess. The list goes on, each and every name engraved into his head, they come with responsibilities and things that shaped how people perceived him as. They were names that made him who he was and carried the meaning to a life he’s been granted but never deserved. </p><p>He can’t tell whether Sothis was troubled with the question, she could be puzzled for all he knew, and perhaps she didn’t know the answer. He would remain as an enigma to his very being, living out a role he can’t possibly do since he wasn’t Sothis.</p><p>“You are Byleth Eisner,” she says with the calm tone of her voice. “I know you are conflicted by the power that resides within you and your purpose with it, but I am not asking you to be the goddess in my stead. Perhaps you think that I may have given it to you for the sake of escaping the darkness, but it is beyond that reason. You may use them however you want, but I’ve said this before, I know you will use them for the greater good because that’s just who you are. It will play a part in the duties you will eventually accomplish.”</p><p>“But what duties?”</p><p>“The duties for yourself, do you not recall? To live by your father’s words and eventually decipher the reason was to why you lived until the very end.”</p><p>For himself. So that's what she spoke of. Though he doesn’t fully grasp her words, they ease the tension on his shoulders, somehow he gains a bit of confidence to return and face the world once more. </p><p>“I... cannot guarantee that you are bound to face more obstacles this time around. All you can do is keep going no matter what. Do not blame yourself if you are unable to save everyone, you mustn't allow yourself to wallow in misery like before. You must continue to go on for the sake of those who continue to live.”</p><p>“That’s what Jeralt said, right?”</p><p>“Just reminding you,” he could almost hear the smile in her voice.</p><p>As much as he’d like to live in the moment forever, he had to go, knowing very well that Sothis would disappear once again by the time he wakes. Byleth makes sure that he keeps this memory close to him so that he wouldn’t forget. </p><p>His apprehension rises when she becomes malformed just like a fading dream, he was waking up and he was going to lose her soon. But there was a sensation he felt— the sensation of being watched, the sensation of being waited for, it’s as though the world stopped turning until the very moment he opens his eyes. It’s nothing of haughty thinking, it was more of the pressure being built up again.</p><p>“We may share the same body; however, everything is ultimately yours,” Sothis says. “Whatever my fate may be in joining your soul, I place my trust in you.”</p><p>“Thank you, Sothis,” Byleth smiles at her, wishing he could at least see her form once it had completely disappeared.</p><p>“I thank you as well, Byleth. Now go. I’ll be with you all the way.” With that, the darkness seeps through the setting, painting his vision black again. </p><p>Byleth attempts to feel the movement of his fingers. They twitch until he feels their consciousness, he stretches them wide open, his joints creaking like an old chair. He could control the movements on his face now, scrunching his nose to the damp breeze, the air containing small particles that brushed against his skin. It’s crusty and fine on his skin, similar to the remains of burning wood.</p><p>There’s a sound now. A voice of the unknown, full concern and perhaps worry. Byleth wonders if his students have come for him after his short fall. They’d go back to defeating the forces of the Empire and win the war. Then, he’d finally say the words he always delayed because of his fear. The fix up could be easier than he thought it would be.</p><p>“—llo. Hello? Are you awake?“</p><p>Byleth sluggishly opens his eyes to a view of gray. A stranger stands from above with worry etched on his face. Behind him, an orange sky with heavy, dark clouds looming from behind. He couldn’t recall if Garreg Mach ever had a sky like that.</p><p>His body feels rigid when he stands up. A wave of nausea hits; the surroundings spin a bit, then slows to a pause. He’s grateful to stand on his feet, yet he becomes bothered by the uneven floor he was stepping on. Dirt and chaff filled, ashes fell from the sky like snow.</p><p>“Ah. You look… awfully familiar,” the stranger says as he squints his eyes. If Byleth ever met him, he couldn’t recall exactly who he was.</p><p>He blinks as a response and suddenly the man’s eyes widen before he utters a gasp “You— you’re the wandering mercenary from before! The Ashen Demon? The goddess? That’s you, isn’t it?” </p><p>It comes as no surprise to him. It’s not as though sleeping would help him erase the past, the war most probably eased down enough for this man to care about those rumors.</p><p>“It took me awhile to figure out that you were the Ashen Demon, but there’s no mistaking your face and that hair color. It’s been quite some time since I’ve heard news about you in Varley, people already assumed that you were d—“</p><p>“Where am I?” Byleth cuts, surveying the surroundings he clearly wasn’t accustomed to.</p><p>“We’re in a village below the monastery. It’s not everyday you’d see a person floating on the river connected to Garreg Mach— well not just any person, but the Ashen Demon and the goddess all at once!”</p><p>He didn’t want to admit that those names were striking a nerve, he found it downright irritating. But his confusion overpowered his irritation. He knew a number of villages near Garreg Mach, and they always had the view of the monastery no matter where they were in the town. Now it was foggy, there was not a single sight of any building in the distance.</p><p>“Garreg Mach?”</p><p>The man nods, “Yes. That monastery was abandoned a long time ago... but sir! Everyone’s been looking for you— especially the locals from that tavern! It stands ‘till today!”</p><p>Garreg Mach? Abandoned? Did they really lose the previous battle? Was it so bad that everyone else had to evacuate the monastery?There was no telling whether he was in a false reality or not.</p><p>“A-abandoned? What do you mean?”</p><p>The stranger looks at him with creased brows, “Uh... yeah? That happened about five years ago, don’t you remember?”</p><p>Five years. Five years. <em> Five </em> years. He was gone for <em> five </em> years? </p><p>It didn’t seem to register in his head, but the more he looked at his surroundings, he started to even question what he believed.</p><p>“What year is it?”</p><p>“Are you really alright? We literally cele— er, well, <em> had </em>the new year just two weeks ago. It’s the year 1185, the month of the Ethereal Moon. Garreg Mach fell five years ago. The Millennium Festival was supposed to be tomorrow too... well, not that anyone has the time to think about that anymore,” the man states with a crestfallen look on his face.</p><p>He’s not grasping the situation properly. It’s been five years since that battle, but for Byleth, it felt just as though it occurred yesterday. How could he have slept for so long? </p><p>Five years was long enough for everyone to assume he was dead, it was long enough for anything to descend into hell and it was long enough to change numerous factors all at once. He thinks of the students and what could’ve happened to them after the moment he had fallen. </p><p>The Millennium Festival. It all came rushing to his head, nearly making him lose the balance of his feet. It was a vow they’ve made as a class, an unbelievable coincidence that may or may nor turn into a broken promise by tomorrow. It’s unlikely that they’d see each other again in spite of the circumstances, but the chances are drawn equally. Byleth didn’t care about where he was in anymore, he just had to go back to the monastery and wait for his students. </p><p>He could begin with that and figure out what to do next from there. </p><p>“Anyway, you should really come back to Varley. Everyone’s going to be—“</p><p>“I have to go.”</p><p>“Huh? Go where? Garreg Mach?” Byleth nods and the man looks at him in utter disbelief. </p><p>“Are you insane? That place has been abandoned for years! Swarms of thieves come and go looting for anything they find, they slaughter almost anyone in their way. A-And I heard that the Imperial troops went there to clean up the area just recently. I know you’re the goddess and all but you’re going to get yourself killed going there alone,” he warned. </p><p>There was no other thought in his mind. It was reckless, but he could do a bit of his shifting along the way and his sword was still miraculously resting in its sheath. He could wipe them out alone, he was sure about it.</p><p>“There are people waiting for me,” Byleth says.</p><p>“But there’s <em> nobody </em>there,” the man reiterates. “Going there is simply preposterous. You might as well stay here and let the people see you. I’m sure they’ll let you stay.”</p><p>He wasn’t ready for that yet. He wasn’t quite ready to see the reaction of people when he’s gone missing for five years, though it didn’t matter as much as his initial reason to return.</p><p>Byleth shakes his head, “I appreciate it, but I’ll have to refuse for now.” He gives the man one last look before he turns away, “I have to leave because I made a promise.”</p><p>Byleth gives the stranger a small bow and thanks him before he takes his leave. He was being warned from a distance, but Byleth can’t hear it anymore. When he thinks of his students, his pace quickens with the blooming sensation of the uneasiness within. Trying to break in through his stiff shifting, he reminisces of the peaceful monastery days that occurred five years ago but felt as though they never aged. </p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>Garreg Mach was torn apart.</p><p>Gates were left hanging open unlike before when they were heavily guarded by soldiers who didn’t allow them to exit. It was basically a free entrance to almost anyone in Fódland. The place was abandoned as the man said, seeing it unattended was seeing it stripped of its significance. It was no longer the home of the Officer’s Academy, but a godforsaken site for thievery.</p><p>The walls crumbled, tainted with black stains as the rotting vines crawled almost everywhere as no one tended to them anymore, the plants shriveled up to odd shapes, the patterns on the floor cracked under pressure; sculpted tiles no longer held shape as they were smashed into smithereens. Byleth walked along them, feeling the lump of debris from under his boots.</p><p>There are some people in the monastery. Some of them scampered away as if they’d seen a ghost, and perhaps they’re not considering the fact that he was gone for over five years. Though he wasn’t too sure if they were running for that reason. With their arms full of unknown belongings, they could be thieves caught in the act. He was too far away to reach them, a little too stiff to advance, and a little too bothered about something else to even care.</p><p>He knows that he should probably head for his quarters since he was going to wait for them after all, but he caught sight of another tower near the building. With nothing else to do in particular, he chooses to be drawn by it just like the day of the ball. It was a place where wishes were granted or a legend that kept people together, yet it was also filled with lurid memories of the night he wished to do all over again. Despite that, he keeps walking anyway.</p><p>The cathedral still stood tall, looming over him with a more unsettling atmosphere than the one before. There was a strange stench of blood lingering in the air, then Byleth notices it.</p><p>A mangled corpse along the pathway to Goddess Tower. A man of red disregarding the hue of his blood— one of the rumored Imperial soldiers that was said to have lurked around doing an investigation in Garreg Mach. Byleth reckoned he died from blood loss as the soldier lay on a pool of it; his eyes were dilated and his mouth was slightly gaped with crimson spilling down its sides. It was just as if he didn’t anticipate his killer.</p><p>Another body slumped by the entrance of the tower, their arms twisted in an odd manner; Byleth’s joints felt faint from just looking at it. Looking inside where the staircase was, he saw the rest of the battalion in a horrid state. </p><p>Their limbs decapitated from their bodies, necks twisted to an odd direction— all twisted into shapes as though they were victims of an unhinged killer. Byleth would’ve killed the Imperial soldier all the same, however he found this method a little too much. </p><p>The perpetrator had a demented, insane way of killing.</p><p>Byleth made his way up to the tower, his feet following the open spaces to avoid stepping on any blood or corpses. He saw the faint light of an orange tincture from the top of the building, signifying that it was already sunset. </p><p>No pungent smell came from the deceased, he realizes. It signifies that they were killed just recently. Byleth thought that perhaps the perpetrator was still somewhere in the tower or in Garreg Mach, he’d just have to find out for himself.</p><p>Once he reaches the top, there’s already the atmosphere that he wasn’t alone. Reaching the last step, he’s already faced with a figure lurking in the shadows. Of course, he’d be grasping his sword’s handle tucked in its sheath. He extended his left arm to form an instantaneous shift, it’s quicker that way if he were to be attacked head-on.</p><p>Byleth walks closer, and closer.</p><p>He’s close, and he could slowly make out certain features. </p><p>He’s close and he can’t take the sword by his waist, his pulse gets caught up in his throat and his chest aches in overwhelming nostalgia.</p><p>Despite the darkness that fell over the figure, Byleth could recognize those golden locks from a mile away, though now they were much longer, scattered and matted with blood. He was slumped against the wall, shoulders seemingly broader despite the large coat. </p><p>The whole situation was filled with incredulity. He walked towards the middle of the floor, heels clicking against the marble until he was where the sunset shone from behind him. As he walked, the figure shuffled, the sunlight effulgent against the shadows. </p><p>An eye.</p><p>An eye of blue that looked at him was much paler than before.</p><p>He holds a gasp under his breath.</p><p>Because there was no doubt about it. </p><p>The long, golden strands glistened under the light. His face was blood stained, but Byleth could make out that his jaw was more chiseled than it was before; it was a wave of maturity washed over his entire being. </p><p>Seeing him made Byleth believe that this was truly five years since he last woke, but more than that, he couldn’t believe that this was how things turned out. He’s relieved he’s alive, Byleth truly was, yet the situation didn’t seem as joyful as he thought it would be. There’s relief and there was guilt rising within; it’s been five years and, goddess, who knew what occurred over such a time. </p><p>Perhaps the past was pushed behind this time around, perhaps he was given another chance to redeem himself. Despite the tension and even the location that was bringing the horrid memories back, Byleth attempts to think positively. Times have changed, Dimitri could possibly forgive him and perhaps Byleth could allow himself to crumble the walls and let himself go. They could fix things, they could end the chaos together. </p><p>There was so much he could tell him, there was so much he could say. Yet, his mouth is dry as he couldn’t find the right words to say.</p><p>Instead of talking, Byleth looks at him instead. The prince looked worn out, bleary, melancholic, and indignant; a complete antipodal of how he looked like, or how he was before. Something tells him that if he were dense enough to speak to him about forgiveness and the like, he would’ve been nothing but an utter fool.</p><p>But it felt as if it was only yesterday he saw the Dimitri he met back then. The one who always listened attentively, the one who he enjoyed tea with, the one he did foul sparring with, the one who made him weak and kissed him like no one else did. They were in the same tower, the memory lingers on his lips even there, a kiss like there was no tomorrow.</p><p>And that was the very same place where he lied and refused him.</p><p>Shaking the thought off, Byleth felt the weight of penitence at the thought that he had abandoned Dimitri and left him alone to die in the war he never knew would eventually exist. It was rueful, seeing Dimitri so disheveled, so... fragmented.</p><p>While he had no words, Byleth hesitantly offered his hand to help Dimitri stand instead but he didn't take it. He tilts his head ever so slightly, and Byleth sees how his other eye was covered with a patch. It makes him queasy thinking about the truth lying beneath it. Dimitri continues to glare at him with his single eye, piercing through with a dead, pale blue color, but Byleth makes an effort not to flinch, his hand steadily extended towards his student. </p><p>Dimitri breathes out a weak, sarcastic laugh that breaks the silence between them, then looks away, “I knew this would happen. I knew that one day, you’d be haunting me just like the rest of them.” He grips his blood-stained lance tighter. “What must I do... to get rid of you... to get rid of all of you?”</p><p>Byleth feels the heaviness in his chest. There’s no doubt that he didn’t want to see him after all this time, nevertheless, he continues to offer his hand to Dimitri. </p><p>But Dimitri snaps at him as a response. “Stop looking at me like that. I know what you want and I have already told you, I <em> will </em> get her head.” He looks away, still gripping lance tight; Byleth could almost hear the steel creak under his fingers.</p><p>The more persistent he was, the tension between them would only worsen. The last time they spoke, they hadn’t been on good terms either. Byleth sighs inwardly, the unsatisfying feeling of being so helpless especially when it came to Dimitri. </p><p>Perhaps there was something he didn’t pay attention to very well. Byleth was always trying so hard to be oblivious, he was unable to comfort and unable to sympathize when people needed him because he knew he’d catch something he wouldn’t want. He always knew there was that vulnerable side of Dimitri he never wanted to show, but was never good at hiding it. </p><p>Byleth would never press him on the topic, but something tells him that he should have. He could never bring himself to utter the words that spoke the truth, not even now.</p><p>He looks at Dimitri’s face, longing for the warmth; the warmth of his blood-splattered cheeks and his hands under those dusky leather gloves. He knows he shouldn’t but the urge takes over him without a moment’s notice. Byleth hesitantly steps forward, kneeling just to cup Dimitri’s cheek with his gloved hand. He doesn’t think, he doesn’t speak, he curves his hand to the shape of Dimitri’s face.</p><p>A flinch. Then a look of terror.</p><p>Byleth doesn’t retract, he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t want to.</p><p>“You... you’re alive?” Dimitri exclaims in disbelief. </p><p>He raises his hand quickly, lightly touching Byleth’s knuckles from beneath his gloves, the squeezing his fingers in between his own index and thumb. He squeezes them tighter, still unable to believe that Byleth was somewhat living with a familiar warmth. </p><p>Dimitri, having that recalcitrant strength he always accommodated, squeezed too tightly, making Byleth wince at the feeling of his bones getting crushed.</p><p>The prince blenches, abruptly standing up from the wall with the look of incredulity on his face. He lets out shivering breaths, then inhales them back in. “But how... <em> ugh </em>,“ he grunts in frustration, bringing a hand to the familiar migraine, “you can’t be alive, I saw you fall with my very eyes...”</p><p>Byleth stands, “I—“</p><p>“Unless it’s another scheme of that damned woman. You are just another one of her Imperial spies,” he snarls. </p><p>Before he could even respond, the air moves, then the tip of Dimitri’s lance is poised at his throat before he could even blink. “In that case, I’ll have to tear your head from your shoulders before you could kill me. ”</p><p>Byleth doesn’t speak. He swallows, seeing how the sharp blade was nearly in contact with his skin. Despite being rigid in fear, he manages to precariously take a small step back and shake his head. </p><p>“Use your words,” Dimitri demands as he moves forward, “unless you want me to scrape that mouth off with this blade.” The tip of the lance touches his skin, a drop of blood beginning to form right above Byleth’s larynx.</p><p>“No,” Byleth answers. “I came here on my own accord. I would never kill you... I would never even think of it.”</p><p>Dimitri narrowed his eyes, skeptical, yet his fingers held onto the lance like they were to thrust forward. After letting out huff, Dimitri puts his lance down and walks past Byleth, slightly bumping the latter along the way. </p><p>“I’m glad to see you again,” Byleth blurts out, though he was really meaning to say it from the start if only things weren’t this way. </p><p>He hears the heavy footsteps stop. Byleth turns, seeing that Dimitri’s back was faced towards him. The atmosphere was silent, no one saying anything, no one making a single sound. Byleth felt a nonexistent pressure squeezing him, directing him to do something, <em> say </em> something.</p><p>“I... I’m glad you’re alive. Seeing you like this... it’s truly a relief to see that you’re safe.”</p><p>“Are you really as glad as you claim?” Dimitri turns. “Am I even truly safe? Especially when I’m around you?” </p><p>Byleth didn’t say a word, but Dimitri began to walk away.  It’s almost like second nature for him to ignore Dimitr’s retorts like he always did, but for some reason, it touches a nerve. He’s not exactly in a position to get angry, but he wasn’t in a position to take the blows either. </p><p>It’s similar as to how he was constantly at fault for something and how he didn’t have the right to stand up for himself because he didn’t deserve it; as conceited as it seemed, Byleth had to push away that line of thinking since he’d never move forward that way. For now, he stays silent and follows him as though he were being tugged on a leash.</p><p>Byleth follows him, trailing silently behind Dimitri’s broad figure. Byleth watches as his torn cape swishes from left to right, how his boots thump against the crumbled floor, how his hair stained in crimson flows in the wind. The sun had already fallen when they were in the cathedral. </p><p>Dimitri stopped by the rubble that used to be the candlelit altar of the cathedral, now covered by its collapsed ceiling. Discovering that it had ended up this way, it made Byleth disconsolate, those days where he’d practice his substandard singing with the other students of the Officers Academy seemed to all just wither away from the sight of the mutilated cathedral. Byleth knew he wasn’t the only one who seemed forlorn at the church’s state, as Dimitri wore a half-lidded gaze at the sight.</p><p>Silence hung upon them once more. It’s been a long time— it’s been years since they were alone like that.</p><p>“How have you been doing these past five years?”</p><p>“I’ve been dead. I’m nothing more than just a corpse that walks on these grounds.”</p><p>“What happened?” Byleth asks close to a whisper.</p><p>Dimitri only seems to get irritated. “What else do you think would’ve happened?”</p><p>“Well, how—“</p><p>“Silence. Your foolish questions are disturbing me.”</p><p>Byleth looks down, his face heating up in shame and a hint of agitation. They’ve only been with each other for a span of a few minutes and they were already beginning to have those foolish arguments. It’s as though everything was different except the irrevocable stigma of their past. Normally, he’d answer back and scold him as the professor, but then remembers that the monastery was no more, meaning he was no longer a teacher as Dimitri wasn’t his student. </p><p>He didn’t admit it to anyone, but Byleth never favored losing at argument, then again, it wasn’t a game but his petty pride on the line. As much as he’d like to say a word or two to get back at him, it was bound to be a worthless battle. It was still early, so he kept silent, hoping that things would take a turn for the better.</p><p>He looks at the rubble of the concrete before him thoughtlessly while the deafening silence hangs before them both. They stood a few feet apart, side by side with a tension handing over their heads.</p><p>It was the same Dimitri after that battle in the Holy Tomb. Until now, Byleth couldn’t decipher what has gotten Dimitri so... deranged.</p><p>After for what seemed to be like hours, Byleth decides to look around the monastery while keeping Dimitri somewhere in his line of sight. He was afraid he’d run off again somewhere, but when Byleth walked away, Dimitri had taken a seat on the floor, still staring at the sight before him. </p><p>Byleth concludes that it’s alright to leave him for a while.</p><p>It’s a trip down the memory lane, he traces his fingers across the cracks of the old wooden pews, looks up at the decrepit golden seals of the church by every pillar and the missing glass on the mosaic panes.</p><p>He makes his way to the statues of the four saints, having an unsettling feeling that they weren’t just saints for him to believe and worship, but perhaps something more ever since he was given the power of the goddess. Sothis was the progenitor god herself, it would come as no surprise to him if the saints shared her blood, more so if they were her direct offspring. </p><p>As always, it bothers him. The way he had taken her role as the goddess and perhaps everything that came along with it. Byleth wondered if they continued to walk the earth knowing that he held the power of the progenitor god, he wondered about their reaction to it. A lowly human gifted with an overwhelming amount of power despite his greed and odious acts. If he were one of the saints, he’d surely be disappointed.</p><p>Byleth sighs, gazes upon the statues of the saints, and heads back to the broken front of the monastery.</p><p>What he sees next vexes him. Dimitri’s armor is settled beside him, leaving him in an off-white shirt and crumpled trousers. His boots were taken off as well, his scarred feet laying on the gravel of the debris. Curled up on the cape spread across the floor, Dimitri was overtaken by fatigue, his head slightly covered by the amalgamate of black and white. </p><p>Then it occurs to him that it was a familiar scene. Giving lectures while his students nodded off to sleep somehow irritated him, yet seeing Dimitri fall asleep simply made Byleth remorseful. Remorseful for everything he did and was unable to do. Even now he felt the same as he looked at his former student; all the years have gone by without him being able to tell him the truth, chances were stripped away by time, and all he’s done was unintentionally sleep to waste it.</p><p>He aches at the memories that seemed trivial but meant so much to him at the moment. Everything they built up together, seemed to all just collapse when Dimitri didn’t even hesitate to kill him. There was no longer a foundation between them both ever since the day he lied to him. The dejected face he made that night five years ago, Byleth couldn’t tell whether it was because of rejection, or the fact that he knew he was being fooled.</p><p>Byleth peels the bits and pieces of armor left on his skin and lays beside him, a few centimeters away, and slightly atop the cape. He watched the way Dimitri’s broad back rises and falls to the rhythm of his breathing.</p><p>Just like that, he’s rekindled with that warm feeling of being so close to him. It’s overwhelming and it’s simply tempting to wrap his arms around Dimitri with the chilly breeze blowing in. Despite everything that’s happened, he can never shake off the feeling of wanting to get closer to him. He was inevitable like gravity, Byleth was always getting pulled towards him no matter how much he didn’t want to.</p><p>Could he really admit it to Dimitri? Could he really bring himself to fall into that bottomless pit that had the chances of no return? Byleth gets lost in his own thoughts, grasping as though it were Dimitri he was holding. </p><p>There was the metallic scent of blood in the air, even so, he caught the faint smell of sandalwood. Nostalgic, Byleth reminisces as though he were flipping through the pages of the memories he had in mind. He closes his eyes and Dimitri’s sitting across him, chamomile tea in hand and a smile on his face. It was a similar scent to back then, it was enough to lure him to sleep.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>At first, he thought it was in the voices in his head coming back to haunt him, then it occurs to him that it was something else entirely. He woke to the sound of shuffling and mumbling. His eyes open to Dimitri, who sat up with his face buried in his hands. </p><p>“Dimitri? Are you al—“</p><p>Within a blink of an eye, the world spins and he’s lying on his back with hands squeezing at his throat. His eyes dilate as gasped for air with the windpipe beneath the skin of his neck on the verge of being closed completely. He had to shift, he knew he had to shift his arm or at least a hand, but he’s jaded with the loss of oxygen.</p><p>Byleth can’t breathe and he’s in a state of sheer panic; he gapes his mouth for any air he could take in to shift, the breaths give him nothing but scales forming on the underside of his jaw.</p><p>He struggled to take his hand off, he was scratching with his bare hands, digging and peeling the skin off Dimitri's arms to his hands just so he could let go. </p><p>But his thumbs burrow themselves deeper into his neck. Byleth let out a broken wail as his lips began to pale. His face was burning, and everything was turning darker than it was. The man on top of him no longer looked like a human, but a demon straight from hell. </p><p>If Dimitri were to press deeper, his neck would snap under the pressure. No, he couldn’t allow himself to end everything here when he’s just returned. With hazy thoughts and damp, dimming sight of an aggravated creature who deprived him of air, he’s striked with the reality of the moment.</p><p>It’s the same. It’s a fragment he’s tried so hard to ignore, but as Sothis told him, he lets it take over and fill him like a blank canvas. He can’t breathe but his surroundings change suddenly, and he’s lying against the wood with the orange hue of the room. He isn’t crying, but there’s nails against his neck and he feels himself gasping and grabbing whatever he could.</p><p>But with failing hands and thin arms, he couldn’t do anything but live the nightmare. No wonder why those people back then had a familiar look on their faces when they spoke of the rumors back then. It’s no different from the woman’s face, mixed with aggravation and disgust. She was sobbing, her tears were falling on his reddening cheeks as he was being asphyxiated.</p><p>
  <em> You’re nothing! You’re nothing, yet… you took everything away from me! </em>
</p><p>How lovely it would be if he would turn into nothing. Perhaps the world could be a better place without him and it comes as an instinct to him to detach, pull away, and end it all if that was the only way.</p><p>There’s nothing else but guilt to be felt.</p><p>Byleth releases his fingers from Dimitri’s hold and shakily cups the face above him. </p><p>“S-sor... ry,” he manages to say.</p><p>The apology doesn’t come with a particular reason. The myriad of faults he had made to Dimitri, he couldn’t select one on the spot. However, with that, the grip on his neck is gone. Byleth wheezes when his throat is released, recoiling and taking in gulps of air in his raw throat as Dimitri stared at him with a lost look on his face. Byleth sputtered coughs beneath him.</p><p>“Stop... stop haunting me.”</p><p>Despite having to catch his breath, Byleth shakes his head. He pushes himself to tap Dimitri’s shoulder with his trembling hand. Gently, he pushed Dimitri onto his back and once the prince closed his eyes, he drifted into slumber. It occurs to him that it was an unfortunate nightmare with him as the victim.</p><p>With no more strength left, Byleth takes a few steps back slumps onto the ground, letting the darkness overcome him. If he were to die at this moment, the goddess’s powers wouldn’t be able to save him. But he was breathing, and that was enough to prove he was alive. </p><p>It caught him off guard, yet he doesn’t feel aggravated. Something tells him that he deserved it somehow, and something else tells him that he isn’t far from done. Byleth doesn’t cry, but he thinks of how he could atone for everything he’s done. With the fatigue finally overcoming him, Byleth hopes he could atone for everything before his days come to an end.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>“Get up.”</p><p>The sun hasn’t made its appearance yet, meaning it was but the wee hours of the morning. Byleth opens his eyes to Dimitri, already clad in his armor and cape, narrowing his eye at him in irritation. For a moment, Byleth felt guilty for thanking the goddess that he only had an eye to look at him that way. </p><p>He sits up, sliding in the discarded armor into his left knee, forearms, then inserting his hands into his coat. Once he takes the coat from behind him, he feels the strain on his neck. </p><p>The sudden realization that the nightmare was not just any illusion in his head made him dizzy, more so when he realized that Dimitri was beginning to lose patience in him when his boot tapped against the floor incessantly. Byleth attempts to raise the armor above his collar bone.</p><p>When he gets up on his feet, Dimitri looks at him with a sour look. “I’m sure you’ve already seen the state of Garreg Mach when you made it here.”</p><p>Byleth nods and Dimitri continues, “The place is swarmed with thieves, those rats scampering here and about, delighted over the treasure hidden in an abandoned monastery. They need to be killed, and I will kill them. Every last one.”</p><p>Then something comes to mind. He and Dimitri had just finished their sword lessons with the orphans. The words that come from his mouth, the expression of guilt and pity, the look of doubt simmering down to a gentle, sincere smile. Remembering that, it made Dimitri almost distinguishable to Byelth, stepping towards a persona he could no longer recognize. </p><p>People were looting because they were in the middle of a war, it was reason enough for their actions to be somewhat recognized. Killing needlessly was probably something they shouldn’t do, but judging the look on Dimitri’s face was clear that he wouldn’t agree.</p><p>Byleth simply looked away and Dimitri’s anger only seemed to intensify with Byleth’s figurative response. </p><p>“Do you remit their actions? Do you allow the endless cycle of the strong trampling over the weak— you believe that their incessant murdering and plundering is <em>justified</em>?”</p><p>By instinct, Byleth takes a step back and shakes his head. There’s another thought in his head that resurfaces, he can’t let his words out but he needed to inform him about forming alliances. They were the only two so far and if they were to plan on taking the Empire, they would obviously need a great number of troops willing to fight with them. </p><p>He had to tell him, but the silence hung in the air with no words coming from his mouth. The longer he kept his mouth shut, the more impatient Dimitri became, but his throat had gone dry and scarred, swallowing was nothing more than a painful action.</p><p>“You seem to like getting on my nerves, do you? I am only going to repeat myself one last time.” </p><p>He stomps closer to Byleth, his lips nearly touching the lobe of his ear. “Use your words,” he bellows.</p><p>His words, his words when he couldn’t speak. And not to mention that it sounds as though it were his fault for that. He clenches his jaw as he feels the familiar prickle on his nose. Byleth swallows, and it burns. </p><p>“...f course... ot...” he lets out a shaky exhale, “I... on’t... allow... it.”</p><p>He sees the way Dimitri’s eyes flicker to his neck and the back to his face. Byleth prays he raised his filthy collar high enough to cover the bruises.</p><p>Dimitri gives an irritated sigh, “This is utterly hopeless. Regardless of what you think, we’re going to hunt them down. Don’t get in my way unless you want to take part in the number of corpses I’ll be piling up.”</p><p>And just like yesterday, Byleth quietly follows behind Dimitri as he walks away.</p><p>It’s nearing dawn when they reach a village below Garreg Mach. It’s a den for thieves considering the familiar banners of the monastery serving as coats and rags by the entrances of the cobblestone houses. People scampered here and there, children keeping themselves warm by the campfire, men feeding the horses, and the women polishing armor.</p><p>They looked at ease, it almost made Byleth forget their motive to go to such a place. He’s never seen the village before, it’s clear that people have become accustomed to the place as the five years have gone by. Although they were thieves, Byleth just wanted to head back to the monastery.</p><p> But Dimitri gave a manic grin at the sight.</p><p>“Ah, I smell it. The pungent aroma of rats swarming this very village.” He looks at Byleth, a haywire smirk lingering on his lips, “Let’s kill them all.”</p><p>He wanted to say something, he wanted to grab his arm and convince him to return, but before he could croak a word out, Dimitri had advanced downhill towards the village. A signal blared and Byleth knew he had no other choice. He held his breath and followed behind him.</p><p>With no moment spared, the children are left with watching people slaughtered before their very eyes. He can’t stop them from seeing, so Byleth ushers them out of the streets before they could see anything else. </p><p>He took them away, but it wasn’t long before the thieves seemed to multiply. There was no other choice but to take them down, so he inhales and shifts his arm. He grants them a swift death, Byleth knew he could give only that much. He’s taking them more than one at a time, but seeing the way Dimitri killed from the other side was a sight he never really wanted to see.</p><p>It was gruesome. Though there were numerous people killed by his hand, Byleth couldn’t seem to register what he saw before him. Once Dimitri stepped into the village, he morphed into another creature, a beast that thirsted for blood. He skewered his lance through their necks, constantly impaling them on the same spot even if they were clearly dead, digging his hands in their hair. It’s followed by the sound of screaming, begging, and cracking against the pavement where the deformed skulls lie were silent. </p><p>Byleth looks at them, and a shiver down traveling down his spine at the thought he would’ve ended up like that. A mere corpse in the vast majority of the people Dimitri had killed.</p><p>There was always a body he would run into; Dimitri’s kills laying idly on the pavement, as if there were trails that he left behind. It wasn’t long before Byleth got separated from him, though Dimitri was still in his line of sight. A swarm of thieves were surrounding him, swiping their daggers, swords, and axes into the air to taunt him. Byleth’s movements were rigid, but his skill was intact, being able to thrust his sword on the right targets and shift his body one part at a time. </p><p>Just when a thief spots an opening behind Byleth, something whizzes through the air, and the thief cries before slumping to the ground with an arrow sticking out of his pectoral. He narrows his eyes at the arrow.</p><p>“Professor!”</p><p>The arrow. The voice. That could only be—</p><p>“... A-Ashe?” he croaks. </p><p>“There’s His Highness! And the... professor?” A gruff voice says disbelief from behind Ashe. </p><p>Gilbert and Byleth spend but a fleeting moment staring at each other before another wave of thieves run toward them. “Alright. We’ll talk about this later, Professor.”</p><p>Byelth nods, trying to keep his overwhelming emotions from spilling out as he resumes fighting with no further hesitation. He becomes oblivious to the fact that Dimitri was no longer in his line of sight since his students from the Blue Lions began to appear one by one, joining the battle, and fighting alongside him just like five years ago. </p><p>They all looked different, mature— looks that illustrate the message that he was gone far too long. Seeing that they were still alive in spite of the war, it brought him great relief and joy. It was difficult to keep his joy at bay.</p><p>Then it occurred to him that it was the Millennium Festival. He reminisces for a moment, thinking about how one single promise could bring them all back together somehow. It was simply… unbelievable.</p><p>But there he was, unable to keep a promise to himself.</p><p>“Professor? Dimitri? Is that really you?”</p><p>“Fancy meeting you guys here.”</p><p>“It’s... been so long. We are truly blessed.”</p><p>“It feels amazing to see you both again.”</p><p>When the village head had been slain by Dimitri, he and Byleth were met with the students of the Blue Lions and Gilbert. They all seemed to beam at them both, Byleth found it quite overwhelming, yet there was something that seemed off when he saw them before him.</p><p>“Why are you all here?” Dimitri asks with a low voice. It seems to catch everyone off guard; Ashe noticeably jolts upon hearing him.</p><p>“Didn’t we make a promise on this very day? S-Surely you remember that, Your Highness,” Ashe supplies hesitantly.</p><p>“I’m sure you and the Professor are here for the same reason,” Ingrid nods, the others giving their sounds of assent.</p><p>“Your Highness,” Gilbert bows, “it is of great relief that I have finally found you. </p><p>Dimitri scoffs, “Do not call me that. I am nothing more than a deceased prisoner.”</p><p>Gilbert shakes his head, “We can all see that you are very much alive, Your Highness. Though, escaping Fhirdiad’s prison was never an easy task—“</p><p>“It was Dedue.”</p><p>Everyone’s breathing seemed to stop, wide eyes all trained on Dimitri.</p><p>“He died trying to help me escape.”</p><p>Of course it was odd. That feeling of uncertainty because there was no one towering in his group of students. Finally getting the news that one of his students has passed away made him sick. Because he swore to himself that he’d protect them to the bitter end. </p><p>Byleth already held himself culpable for it because he’s fallen asleep for far too long.</p><p>“We will be sure to honor his loyalty,” Gilbert says.</p><p>Though it comes as a slight blur when Byleth thinks of Dedue, Gilbert then speaks about the status of the kingdom, chaos and traitors mingling in Fhirdiad grounds, refugees crying for salvation because of their dead king. </p><p>The west of Faerghus pledged their allegiance to the Empire, the east struggling with their troops to oppress the forces of those factions that they were once unified with. A mage who served the royal family had turned her back on them, supporting the Empire to take over the rest of Eastern Faerghus. </p><p>The Kingdom was in pure disarray, mussed from the war, more so when their leader was nowhere to be found.</p><p>“The Kingdom is in the state of chaos. Your Highness, we are not asking for food, repertoire, or soldiers, but to work under your leadership once more. We need the king to reclaim the Kingdom, unify Faerghus, and overthrow the Empire. Only you could lead us to the light.”</p><p>Byleth looks at Dimitri, lightly placing his hand on his arm, hoping that Dimitri would understand what he was trying to convey. But Dimitri shrugs him off instead.</p><p>“All of you agree to overthrow the Empire? Then we must kill them all at once. Destroy them until no one’s left.” With that Dimitri walks away.</p><p>Just with that, it’s painfully obvious that he’s missed the objective, but no one calls him out for that. The others look uneasy and Gilbert simply gives a defeated sigh.</p><p>“You’ve been quiet, Professor. Is something the matter?” Gilbert asks, the rest of his students giving him the same look of concern.</p><p>Byleth shakes his head, unable to utter a word. It may seem rather rude, but there was nothing else he could do.</p><p>“In that case, I will further discuss this matter to you in the monastery.”</p><p>They head to the monastery after Byleth asks the rest of his former students to bring the children along with them. They weren’t much, but Byleth didn’t want to leave them alone in a village filled with corpses. Not that he wanted to kill any of them anyway.</p><p>Gilbert walked alongside Byleth as the others followed behind. Once they were at a distance from the rest, Gilbert wasted no time in explaining who Cornelia was and how the Kingdom eventually collapsed under her rule. Though there was much to take in as Gilbert spoke, Byleth was grateful that he wasn’t asked any questions, or wasn’t required to speak at all. Perhaps Gilbert was too busy to even ask anything or he had already noticed.</p><p>“Fhirdiad fell into chaos ever since that day... the day Dimitri was accused for murdering his own uncle, Rufus, who served as king regent. Cornelia claims his murder was due to his relevance to the tragedy of Duscur; she says Dimitri raged over those rumors murdered Rufus.”</p><p>He lets out another sigh, “Though it is not a matter to be greatly furious over, I believe that His Highness would not commit such a crime. There was no way I could rebuke his sentence since the evidence was insufficient— it was insufficient for either side yet… they chose to believe that he killed him with his capabilities and murderous intent for anyone involved in the Tragedy of Duscur.”</p><p>It wasn’t something shocking since Byleth had seen Dimitri kill numerous people, though Dimitri killing his own family was a totally different scenario. But then again, based on what he’s seen recently, the prince didn’t hesitate to kill him if he sided with the Empire or related to the Tragedy. </p><p>“After being pleaded guilty, he was to be beheaded. His trial went through, hidden from the public and as a secret kept in the kingdom. There were those who believed that the prince was still alive. I, myself, did not believe that until two years ago when I heard rumors of mass killings of Imperial troops along Kingdom territory. The killings were simply atrocious— as if they weren’t killed by human hands.”</p><p>Decapitated limbs, mangled ligaments, eyeless faces, uniforms of red. Gruesome killings. Byleth swallows painfully.</p><p>“Finding His Highness here with you is truly a blessing of the goddess, though I can tell his anger had manifested through years of living in solitude. In any case, I will speak to him later and try to bring him back to his senses. You and the others must be weary from today’s events, so let’s look for somewhere to rest.”</p><p>It occurs to him that he hasn’t gone around the monastery when he came, since he went straight for the cathedral. It’s unbelievable since it was as though he and Dimitri were the only ones just hours ago, then all of a sudden Seteth and Flayn were there to meet them by the entrance hall. More than being baffled by their presence, Byleth simply feels the relief that they were still alive and well, even their appearances haven't changed in the slightest.</p><p>The rest of the students follow, and Byleth could almost hear the way Flayn sniffles to the sight. Seteth mouth gapes then shuts quickly, his arms extended towards Byleth like he couldn’t help but embrace him. When he realizes, he quickly sticks them to his sides and clears his throat.</p><p>“Ah, forgive me. Welcome back to Garreg Mach, Professor.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>——</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Seteth informs them that the rest of the knights would be returning for regrouping tomorrow, he wastes no time in explaining their current circumstances; the knights had been looking for Rhea and Byleth for the past five years and they have been unsuccessful in their search ever since.</p><p>“Surely things are bound to change now that you are here,” Seteth tells him. </p><p>Then there was that pressure on him again. He tries his best not to think about that and asks Seteth about where he and Flayn were yesterday since that’s when he arrived.</p><p>“We are in the Holy Maseoulem most of the time. It is for our safety as my brother says,” Flayn huffs.</p><p>“We cannot afford to engage in skirmishes, not at a time like this,” Seteth says. It’s odd that the monastery was in such a state since Seteth was unable to drive the thieves away, it was a selfish act, yet Byleth couldn’t really blame him for it.</p><p>When they formally established their alliance, Garreg Mach served as their base of operations. Byleth headed to his old quarters after their meeting. It was surprising that it appears just as he remembered from those years ago though there were dust bunnies laying here and there. </p><p>He dusted his sheets, trying to get rid of it’s musty smell and coat of dust. After he was finished with the bed, he unclasped the belt around his waist, letting his robe fall from his shoulders. He shuffled through his cabinets to look for a dress shirt when there was a faint knock on the door.</p><p>“Professor?”</p><p>Byleth slipped the dress shirt on and opened the door to find Mercedes and Annette looking up at him with calm smiles on their faces.</p><p>“Hi, Professor! Sorry for bothering you when it’s so late... but Mercie and I noticed something a while ago. We assumed something was odd, but we couldn’t really see it.”</p><p>“Mhm,” Mercedes hums in agreement, “since you’re wearing something different, it’s quite evident. Now that I see it... it looks pretty fresh.” She points to the blackened bruises on his neck. Byleth unconsciously raises a hand to his neck.</p><p>“Please let us help, Professor.”</p><p>Then he found himself sitting on his bed, Mercedes hands glowing with white magic over his throat and Annette shambling through the things on the table by the window. Mercedes and Annette went on about how the past five year went; how they spent more time doing things they weren’t able to do when they were still students.</p><p>“Of course, people have no time to appreciate sweets with the war at hand,” Annette sighs. </p><p>“No one has the appetite for such delicacies. More so that the King hasn’t come back to the Kingdom...”</p><p>“Speaking of Dimitri makes me think of Dedue,” she stops in the middle of wiping the tabletop. “I can’t seem to accept the fact that he isn’t alive anymore.”</p><p>“Me too,” Mercedes says close to a whisper, “He was our classmate— our friend. To think that he... it saddens me that we were bound to lose each other in the future.”</p><p>“I think the saddest among us all is Ashe, don’t you think? He looked so torn when he heard it. He and Dedue were best friends, it must be very hard for him. I mean, I’d be really sad if I lost you, Mercie.”</p><p>“Me too, Annie. I wouldn’t be able to live without you— ah, there, Professor. It’s all done,” her hands let go, “I think you should be able to at least speak even though the marks are still there.”</p><p>The burden around his neck had eased, relieved with a refreshing coolness running through his throat. </p><p>He exhales a cough before speaking, “Thank... you.”</p><p>It comes out raspy, yet Annette and Mercedes give him relieved smiles in response.</p><p>“It’s great to hear your voice again, Professor.”</p><p>“Hmm, what happened to you anyway? Like Mercie said, it’s new. It doesn’t look like a battle injury. I mean, the battle a while ago was your first one since you woke, wasn’t it?” </p><p>She rambles on, “Judging from the marks on your neck, it looks like someone’s hands were around it, grasping it so tightly you wouldn’t be able to breathe— making you unable to talk! Then, then, if that was before the battle, we saw Ashe and my father ahead of us, but there were two people before them, which were you and—“ she gasps. “You were with him before we came, weren’t you? Could he have possibly—“</p><p>“Annette.”</p><p>Mercedes said so firmly, it sounded like a command. All eyes turn to her, Mercedes pointing a cold stare to Annette before instantly reverting back to her usual serene self.</p><p>“Let’s go to bed, Annie. Professor needs his rest too,” she smiles.</p><p>“O-oh okay then... goodnight, Professor!” Annette complies. </p><p>Before Mercedes shuts his door, she turns to Byleth with a painful expression. “I’m sure she saw that his fingers and arms were full of scars. Though I’m not sure if she noticed the blood under your fingernails.”</p><p>She pauses, “I just… I pray that you two get along soon.”</p><p>She leaves his room, waving goodbye before completely shutting the door. Byleth exhales, then examines the dried blood under his fingernails.</p><p>Those two were as sharp as ever; even if they didn’t seem like it, they caught up to situations very quick. Their magic and keen sense of intuition made them both unstoppable in the battlefield, yet Byleth never thought that they’d end up deciphering what happened to him. Mercedes already knew, he just hoped she wouldn’t tell anyone else. </p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t even a week when people came flocking back to the monastery from the time news spread that the professor of Garreg Mach who disappeared five years ago, turned out to be alive all this time. </p><p>Old, acquainted merchants, priests, nuns and students greeted him around the monastery, their hands trembled as they reached out to him, hoping that they could receive some sort of blessing from a single touch. Byleth forces a smile and takes the time to ask them about the events that occurred over that past five years. It was exhausting, but he had to do it anyway.</p><p>It’s as though they never stop coming. Some sought to sell in the market near the monastery, some sought for their faith through his existence, saying that the goddess was truly a wonder for bringing him back— or perhaps he was the goddess himself and he’s come back to end the war. It comes as another addition to the pressure but he chooses to cope with it.</p><p>He helps with the restoration of the monastery. The orphans were given a place in the monastery, the beds were dusted, the tables were wiped and a number of pews were fixed. </p><p>Byleth was grateful that there were people willing to help amidst those who passed by just to ogle at his presence and speak loudly about what they thought. It comes as no surprise that the rumors of the past were there to haunt him, but it didn’t bother him as much as before since he was occupied with thoughts of their next course of actions.</p><p>The remaining knights return during the cleanup and are left shocked upon seeing his face.They tell him that he’s given them hope, that his return was going to be the turning point of this entire war. He’s also given them that relief that perhaps Rhea would return just as he did. </p><p>Then Byleth suddenly recalls that her disappearance meant that he had to take her place and perform her sacred duties. Byleth still had no idea as to what they were but he decided that he would have to ask Seteth some point in time.</p><p>“These are trying times. People cling onto hope no matter how small it is,” Gilbert tells him during one of their conversations during the cleanup.</p><p>Everyone was desperate. And apparently, he served as a ray of hope to some. It was quite uncompelling to him; despite being relied on numerous times, he was still uncertain about everything, most especially when it turned out that he was not only a hope to strangers but the students who were in the Officer’s Academy as well.</p><p>Ferdinand greeted him in the reception hall a few days later, he was accompanied by other soldiers and the rest of the students who were left behind before the battle. He’s baffled by their presence, but it was as though his burdens were alleviated somehow. They offered their alliance, supplies came along with a few soldiers from Adrestia and the Alliance, but the ratio of soldiers to supplies certainly wasn’t pleasant. It was never like him to make hasty decisions but Dimitri refused to show up and everything fell onto him.</p><p>He knew it was going to be a problem to take in people without giving much thought to it, but the people who faced him have gone all the way there to see him and somehow help him in ending this chaos. They were just like refugees and orphans, Byleth couldn’t bring himself to refuse and accepted their offer despite it being a win-lose situation under their circumstances.</p><p>Their army, which would be named as the Kingdom army under Dimitri’s rule, was but a tiny fraction of the Empire’s. Byleth believes that they could slowly inch their way up to the numbers.</p><p>Some of them tell him that he had helped them before and this was an act of giving back, yet the memories were hazy, and abstract in his head. There was no remembering what good he has done before, but did he really have to remember? As long as he did the right thing it was certainly fine. </p><p>A day comes wherein Gilbert reports that soldiers are marching towards Garreg Mach, holding a banner of red up high, golden threads stitched into the cloth forming a two-headed eagle. </p><p>Imperial troops were headed towards the monastery, probably since the news of his return broke out -surprisingly quick-, or perhaps it was just another series of their attacks around Fódland. Nevertheless, they still had to prepare— with the small amount of troops they had.</p><p>Strategizing for battle while gathering supplies for the people in Garreg Mach was difficult, that’s where his hasty decision making hit him once he noticed that not everyone had food to eat everyday. </p><p>Byleth recalls that Ingrid told him about how food boosts morale, but it was limited for all; nearly everyone wasn’t able to have at least three meals a day considering that they train and work for the most part. The pond seemed to be drained of its fish and the vegetables have withered over the years.Though it may seem as though people supported their cause, they refused to hand over supplies since they served as means for their own survival. </p><p>“How did you two and the Knights survive over the past five years staying here?” Byleth asks Seteth when it was only the three of them in his office, he tries not to make his fatigue obvious through his voice. Byleth has done nothing but listen to people bicker all day about plans, food, beliefs, money… he didn't have the time to grasp everything all at once.</p><p>“The monastery was left unattended for the most part—“</p><p>“Obviously,” it was a slip of the tongue. Seteth glares at him and Byleth apologizes.</p><p>“As I was saying, the monastery was left unattended for the most part since all of us were searching for you and Rhea.”</p><p>As reckless as it may seem, they probably had no other choice. Seteth explains their lengthy, initial objective, but in summary it was nothing but to continue their search. He doesn't speak of it, but if Byleth never came back, they would keep searching until the day they drew their last breath. It strikes him of how much importance he was, but then again, it was never going to be that case if he never had the power he possessed now.</p><p>“Was I that important?” He couldn’t hold his tongue. It was probably the fatigue catching up to him, but it was also a question he needed to know.</p><p>Seteth’s brows furrow and Flayn’s eyes dart towards the floor. He understood that perhaps he and Rhea were the only ones who could shift into dragons, perhaps they were also the only ones capable of representing religious figures of the goddess, but why waste time searching for them when there was a war at hand?</p><p>Seteth gives his daughter a look and she nods as a response. “I suppose I was never able to tell you the truth since I was only told a day before the battle.”</p><p>“What truth?”</p><p>“The truth about yourself,” Flayn supplies.</p><p>“And why we selfishly requested we continue the search for an indefinite amount of time,” Seteth adds. </p><p>So, Byleth listened to the truth. He already knew that he was nothing but a baby born with no heartbeat, yet he never knew that he was dead from the very beginning. His mother didn’t pass away during childbirth but passed away when the stone was torn from her heart and shoved into his own in an attempt to bring him to life. It was a request, not a horrible coincidence; it makes him feel worse knowing that she chose to die for him.</p><p>There was the urge to run away, but he keeps his feet flat on the floor.</p><p>It was never Rhea’s plan to give him the crest stone, but it doesn’t change the fact that she had used people as means to bring the progenitor god back to earth; his mother was a victim to her experiments and he soon became one as well. It all comes back to her strange attitude when he had possessed the powers of the goddess, in her eyes, he was nobody else but Sothis.</p><p>“I do not, <em> will </em>not justify her actions, yet I understand where she was coming from since the progenitor god was her mother after all.”</p><p>Somehow, all the loathing he had for Rhea seemed to tame itself after hearing that. He should probably be shocked at the fact that she was the daughter of Sothis, but he finds himself empathizing instead, thinking of the numerous times he wished that Jeralt would come back. What she did was downright outrageous, yet he can’t find himself completely loathing her.</p><p>“Though I do not fully agree with her actions, I do believe that we must continue seeking for her along the way.”</p><p>“The four of us are the last of our kind. We must keep each other going somehow.”</p><p>“The four of us?”</p><p>Flayn raises a brow, “Lady Rhea, Seteth, you, and me.”</p><p>“Y-You and Seteth?” Byleth maunders.</p><p>“Ah, we missed that detail did we not?”</p><p>“I think we did, father.”</p><p>It’s a decadence to see that they appear completely nonchalant about everything as he was the only one left puzzled by the entire situation. Seteth sighs, unbuttoning his cuff and rolling his sleeve up to his elbow. </p><p>He takes a deep breath and exhales like Byleth does. Gray scales emerge from his skin and Byleth almost loses the equilibrium of his system. Blinking doesn't seem to change anything, he definitely saw the scales retract themselves back into his skin.</p><p>He can’t seem to catch a break from secrets that never failed to surprise him. Somehow he feels tricked, though another part of him told him that he was plain stupid for not realizing that they were just like him. Byleth should’ve known from the moment he saw Seteth’s tepid response to his power.</p><p>All of a sudden, his mind does a backtrack to the four saints in the cathedral, particularly at Cichol and Cethleann, the father and daughter, the ones who fought alongside Seiros during the War of Heroes. </p><p>“Both of you can do a full shift like Rhea, am I right?”</p><p>Flayn nods, ”Yes, though father can stay in that form longer than I can.”</p><p>“It has been years since I took that form. I think I would not be able to hold out longer than I did before. I… vowed that I would never put them to use again.”</p><p>“How many years exactly?”</p><p>“About a thousand.”</p><p>There was no mistaking it. The two who were in front of him were no humans, but <em> saints </em>.</p><p>“How come you two don’t use them during battles?”</p><p>“As selfish as it may seem, we need to keep ourselves hidden no matter what. There’s an enemy out there that continues to seek for our blood. Falsifying our identities was the only way to keep us safe from them.”</p><p>“Don’t you think I should keep my identity a secret too?” Byleth asks.</p><p>“Well… hiding yourself might seem like the best option to keep yourself safe, though based on our current circumstances, people already see you as the goddess. Faith plays a major role in getting people to join our cause, once they open their eyes to the supernatural, it may go both ways.”</p><p>“Coming back from the dead made people join us, what more if they knew about the power you had within,” Flayn chirps.</p><p>It was a double-edged sword, they all knew that much.</p><p>“Revealing your powers may not be the entirety of it, but I am sure it will be an aid in carrying out the sacred duties Rhea entrusted to you.”</p><p>Byleth already knew this tactic. It was a hybrid of politics and religion he had to carry on his shoulders, though it may seem trivial at that point in time, it was clear that it had to be done. Everyone was on the brink of desperation to end this chaos, as he was the hope, he had to serve as what they believed him to be and turn the tides of this war.</p><p>There was no use pondering over what Sothis would do because he wasn’t her, yet something tells him that she would’ve gone with the choice he made anyway. Byleth needed to convince people and perhaps fix the religion that’s been fragmented ever since Rhea’s disappearance; he needed to be provocative and empathetic to those around him that they may be convinced that their army would fight for a good cause.</p><p>“Even though we may not be able to shift our forms, we support whatever your decision may be. Flayn and I will be with you until the very end.”</p><p>“We are family after all,” Flayn smiles.</p><p>Family. It makes him wonder if they still saw him as himself or Sothis, but he chooses to not let it linger in his mind. He had much to do after all.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>——</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>It was war, he reminded himself. There was a limit to everything, even with the small amount of people who had faith in him.</p><p>He was working days before the battle, if he wasn’t facilitating the training and giving lectures on the positioning strategy, he was scanning through every scripture of the church, asking Seteth about whatever they meant. He recalls reading them before, yet everything that was written seemed to have a certain twist to it that he couldn’t quite decipher just yet. </p><p>Seteth said he was Cichol, Flayn was Cethleann. Then Rhea was said to be Seiros herself. The other two saints were missing, and when he asked Seteth, he answered with a shrug. It’s clear as to why Byleth was assigned to such a role. He was a mere vessel of the progenitor god even when he couldn’t handle half of the overwhelming power she had.</p><p>Upon hearing that Rhea was Seiros herself from Seteth, Byleth immediately knew that the history of the church was one big, fabricated belief. He doesn't speak of it out loud but he was sure that Seteth and Flayn were the only ones who weren’t kept in the dark. Byleth thinks that he should start with that, yet it was a mangled knot of facts and fibs he had yet to untie. He chooses to start with influence and supplies.</p><p>Gilbert tells him that image was everything if he wanted to go with that. War was no time for putting an effort into looking good, but it was a matter of forming alliances and proving that they were going to be the spark of the revolution. </p><p>Evidence was needed to persuade people into joining or at least giving them supplies, they needed to win over the Imperial forces and show people that they were the ones who would fight to regain Fódland’s peace. There was no time to sit around and wait for the response the other allies sent to their homelands, it was a gamble that he wouldn't depend on so he does the work himself.</p><p>He spends the days going in and out of the monastery, going to villages and requesting for assistance; putting on a smile no matter how stiff the sides of his lips became, listening as they prattled on about their worries, and kept his composure when they bring up the issue of his ‘courtesan’ past in Varely. </p><p>There were people who knew and those who didn’t know, but he continued persuading them anyway. It was exhausting but it had to be done.</p><p>Thankfully, it works somehow. Those who already believed were willing to lend a hand in battle preparations. Some people send in some raw materials for weapons, some send in food, some send in themselves. It’s a meager amount compared to his efforts, but he thinks it’s fine for now.</p><p>After all, his plans were being compromised.</p><p>It’s Dimitri of course, no one else possessed the ability to bother him greatly. Everything was supposed to go the way it should go if he were not around, yet his presence seemed to ruin some certain aspects of what Byleth was trying to put up. </p><p>It’s not as though his return was under wraps but people thought of it as mere rumors since he didn't roam around the monastery often, they would have to visit the cathedral to see for themselves. Dimitri spent his the hours of the day in the cathedral, just staring mindlessly into the distance and occasionally mumbling to himself. </p><p>For Byleth, it’s a natural response to help him out. He wouldn’t turn a blind eye on him or anyone considering his duty, but it was quite obvious that Dimitri was a special case. Being a bit biased and still harboring some emotions he couldn’t bring to express just yet, Byleth always asked him if he was willing to join them for supper or attend any training sessions, but he’s given a shrug or dead air in between them even when he asks nicely.</p><p>“Stop attempting to pull that act on me. It’s irritating.”</p><p>That was the spark that ignited their arguments. All of a sudden, Byleth finds himself saying something back and they’re both raising their voices at each other. It alerts people in the cathedral and it takes Felix to jump in between to stop them. </p><p>The first wasn’t enough since it goes on every time they cross paths, be it along the corridors, in the cathedral, near the stables, in the dining hall; they don’t even have to shout just for everyone to know that they were fighting, their stances were clear that they were a mere strand away from throwing punches at each other. It makes people afraid since the leaders of their army were having numerous disputes and it taints their reputation as a group led by such chaos.</p><p>The image was crumbling as quick as it was fixed, but he can’t seem to stop getting into fights with him. Byleth knows It’s immature of him to answer back, but it was irritating if he didn’t answer because he tasted defeat that way. It’s his petty pride that keeps him going even when he only had bits and pieces of it left.</p><p>Other than his pride was the hope that he could somehow knock some sense into him and to somehow cover his weakness for him with an argument. Byleth couldn’t say the words to him, not when he was unwilling to listen. </p><p>When the day of the battle came, nothing had changed. Dimitri was still as stubborn as ever, joining a battle he didn’t even bother preparing for. Gilbert tells Byleth to assign a battalion to him, but it’s obviously not the smartest idea he had to execute.</p><p>“He is the prince,” Gilbert insisted. “Why send him off to die?”</p><p>It was never his intention to make him die, neither was it his intention to let the men assigned to Dimitri die under his incompetence. He was skilled in combat, Byleth knew that very well, but it’s also the leadership that would fail him as of the moment. With the limited troops they had, he knows very well that they shouldn’t be handed over to Dimitri.</p><p>But he had no choice. Gilbert was persistent and once he drove to the topic of influence, Byleth gave in.</p><p>On the day of the battle, the troops and the former students who chose to fight were settled in their stations as the enemy drew closer. Byleth was making last minute plans, thinking of decisions that would bring them closer to Rhea’s whereabouts and the Empire’s next course of actions. He was focusing until he noticed Dimitri, who hadn’t attended any of their strategy meetings, looming from behind him.</p><p>It’s a persistent feeling of irritation that he can’t seem to shake off, like a fly that was constantly sticking itself on his skin no matter how many times he swatted in its direction. Byleth made an effort to convince Dimitri one last time to station himself at the back lines; however, he didn't concede. A retort hangs by the tip of his tongue, but he bites his lip instead. </p><p>The plan might go fine with or without him knowing, Byleth was more than confident since he was familiar with old contraptions that they could put to use.</p><p>“Professor?” Marianne calls him, her voice sounding louder than it was years ago, yet still mellow.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Will you be fine in that outfit?” She eyes his outfit before she looks at him with a hint of uncertainty.</p><p>Even he wasn’t used to it, but shifting was easier that way. It’s definitely a lightweight choice since there wasn’t much armor hugging his shoulders and elbows for the lack of sleeves. The shirt was… revealing from the back, but there was a coat to cover him for now. He had to admit, he looked as though he was sent to go to bed instead of a battle.</p><p>“I’ll be fine,” he assured her.</p><p>Once the first soldier passes the boundary, he sends the signal and they advance forward. There’s no mistaking that their numbers were greater than theirs, so the battalions separate and stay by the area of the ruins. Of course, it’s only Dimitri and his troops that advance, Byleth should’ve stopped him but his lance was already impaling through any skull he could find. The plan was to lure them in, not push them back. A wave of that frustration washes over him again.</p><p>Reinforcements come one after the other, the troops take them on the spots they were assigned to. Calvary stays as the rest advance forward, when the reinforcements get too much and when Ingrid is occupied with archers, he knows what to do. Byleth assigns Ashe to lead his troops, he slips his arms out of his coat, breathing in as he goes then having the wings slice through the skin of his back. </p><p>He hasn’t fully mastered the art of flying, but he makes it to the contraption somehow, the former students from the other classes gawked up at his form but he orders them to evacuate the area immediately. Thankfully Dimitri was already on the other side so that he didn’t have to order him. Once Byleth saw the next wave of reinforcements take their place on the ground, he pulled the lever, and suddenly the ruined village became that epitome of hell. </p><p>The Kingdom army manages to escape while that rest of the Imperial troop have their skin sizzling in the fire. The general of their army could be seen from a distance, taken aback from the sight and shouting orders here and there. Their soldiers began to run exit the battlefield, carrying whatever they had left of their bodies. Byleth was in the air when he saw the overview of the terrain. He’s overwhelmed by the sight but snaps out of it when Gilbert shouts an order not to let a single one escape.</p><p>He wished he closed his eyes when he drove his claws into soldiers who could barely walk as they begged for their lives. </p><p>This is war, he reminds himself. This is war.</p><p>It seemed as though the Kingdom Army was succeeding, but they too suffered from heavy losses due to the destruction of their formation in the early part of the battle, not to mention Dimitri’s troops who were left behind to burn. </p><p>As soon as the reinforcements stopped, the Imperial troops lessened, and lessened, until they were only left with the general, who was on the verge of tears as the rest of his men were slaughtered around him. He refused to surrender, but Dimitri was already ready to kill him from a distance. The last thing Byleth sees before he reaches the limit for his wings, is the lance hurled towards the general.</p><p>Amidst the flames on the southern half of the battle field, Byleth shifts back, orders the rest for last checks around the field, then runs north before more damage is done. The Divine Pulse wouldn’t work in the position he was in, his energy was still depleting with every step that he took.</p><p>But once he saw them in the distance, the lance was already piercing through the flesh of the general. </p><p>The plan to take him for questioning was bound to fail.</p><p>“I did what I had to! I had to protect the Empire! My family! It was my duty!” The general cries, sputtering blood as he speaks.</p><p>“Then there’s nothing different between us both,” Dimitri says. “We’re beasts. We’re bound to die in excruciating pain and its endless sorrow because we deserve it.”</p><p>“I’m… I’m not like you!”</p><p>“Or so you claim. You have failed everyone you lead on this battlefield today, proving that you’re nothing more than a pathetic murderer who claims to know humanity—“</p><p>“Dimitri. That’s enough.” Byleth plants his feet firmly to the ground, slightly catching his breath from all the running.</p><p>“What do you want?” Dimitri snarls.</p><p>“You shouldn’t kill him just yet, we need—“</p><p>“Not kill him?” </p><p>“He’s needed for questioning.”</p><p>“Have you lost your damn mind?”</p><p>Byleth frowns, “Can you just— just calm down for a second? Can’t we have decent conversation for once?”</p><p>“Who gives you the right to tell me to calm down when you keep <em> interrupting </em> me?”</p><p>He breathes out a slight laugh, dripping with sarcasm, “Says the one who’s actually doing the damn deed.”</p><p>It’s as quick as a whiplash, he shifts his arm when the lance is taken from the flesh and comes swinging in his direction. The blade digs into his scales but it’s thick enough not to sink in; it becomes heavy to hold up and Byleth knows that he’s gone past the limitation.</p><p>He and Dimitri glower at each other, eye to eye. The tension rises and he knows very well about what they were about to do. As much as he didn’t want to fight him, there were things that needed to be settled, things that needed to go back to the way they are supposed to be. If battling Dimitri was the only way to—</p><p>“Stop this at once!” Seteth calls out and Byleth looks towards his direction.</p><p>Within a blink of an eye, the lance is pulled from his scales and it slices through the air. Before he even could even react, Byelth sees the general’s head fall from his shoulders. He watches as it rolls over to the side, tapping against the corner of Dimitri’s bloody boot.</p><p>“What… What is wrong with you?” Byleth asks quietly.</p><p>This time, it’s Dimitri who gives him a low, caustic laugh. “The audacity for you to ask that amuses me so. If you continue to seek the your lost, helpless student from back then—“</p><p>”I never claimed that you were helpless or lost, I just want you to return to your senses.“</p><p>“If you hate me so much for my ‘senselessness’, then kill me.”</p><p>A gust of wind blows. Then silence.</p><p>“I don’t hate you. You know I would never.”</p><p>“Then don’t. Don’t kill me. But I will continue to make use of you and the rest. It matters not whether you live or die in the process,” he turns away. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>L o n e  M o o n</em> </b>
</p><p>Until the sun set, he sat on the dead grass beneath him.</p><p>He sat by the foot of their grave, his parents laying side by side underground. Surely he was standing moments ago, trying to decipher the vagueness of his thoughts as to what he wanted to talk to them about. Perhaps he was about to pray to Sothis, ask her how his parents were doing, whether she knew they were watching him or something to that effect. </p><p>But he doesn’t mourn, he doesn’t feel grief. He was just conflicted.</p><p>His mind was swirling with thoughts, but his words were hollow. If he had the chance to talk to them just for a moment, what would he say? What could they possibly tell him at this time where he was so conflicted with himself and so damn frustrated. Byleth believed that he’d receive silence.</p><p>So, he sat by their grave instead, imagining a world where he lay on the warmth of his mother’s lap as he listened to the rough humming of his father. </p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>Though they won the last battle, Byleth wondered how much longer he would last when Dimitri kept on compromising with the battle plan; he refused to reiterate the plans to his battalion, he left them most of the time during the skirmishes just to charge at the enemies alone, and he remained apathetic to their deaths.</p><p>He says that it isn’t his problem, and that time, Byleth didn’t know how much longer his fist won’t move to sock him in the face.</p><p>Byleth hated to admit that he was getting quite exasperated with his behavior, but he just had to endure it for now and believe that there was always a solution for every dilemma. </p><p>But if his attitude were to worsen, they would lose a great amount of troops and the material for their weapons would drastically decrease due to the lack of support solely because of Dimitri’s rash behavior. </p><p>He needed to work twice as hard, reach out to cities that were not so close, recruit and convince that they had to have the courage to go against the Empire at times like this. Byleth needed them to donate anything such as food or armor. His rewards were obviously not matching the amount of work he put into it, not even when the stories of his strange form spread.</p><p>People began to believe, but there were still those who opposed him of course; their points of attack were always regarding the past and Byleth tries to pay no mind. Even when there are people who spat in his direction and tell him how much of a false god he was, he still continued to walk with his head up, determined to prove them that they were wrong.</p><p>It’s as though the fate of the Kingdom Army and the church rests solely on him. The thought itself was pressuring but the whole concept put into action was tiring. He fell asleep on his table on most nights, waking up to see that he had drooled all over the parchment. Groaning, Byleth had to read the scriptures and write it down again. They’re basically written down over and over again, he hopes that he’d decipher the meaning behind them somehow.</p><p>He keeps his fatigue hidden well, at least it blocks out the sensation of having to bleed to death just so he would get back to his senses. That was years ago, that buzzing noise had probably disappeared as time had gone by or he was too tired to feel it. Either way, he was exhausted. </p><p>Late nights were filled with heavy eyelids and a dry tongue that sought for something else other than water. He was grateful for the soldiers he led, they gave him half a bottle of spirits out of the goodness of their hearts. It was difficult to get drinks around from the surrounding towns, especially when they were so tight on money. Byleth was able to smuggle the spirits in his quarters and drink until he passed out.</p><p>He slept better, but his head was heavy the morning after. It was like nostalgia that had a sedative sensation to come with it. </p><p>There was another arranged meeting for forming alliances and their next plan of attack. Byleth was a little late to the meeting just like he thought, smelling a little bit like alcohol since he only wiped himself down and forgot to bathe before he attended the meeting. Luckily, it’s only Seteth who notices that he drank and quietly chided him for it, and as he was being chided, he finally realizes that Dimitri had finally joined a war council. </p><p>With the map spread across the table, Gilbert furrowed his eyebrow in concentration. The rest of the Blue Lions and the other students debate among themselves. There were only two options for their next course of action: take back Fhirdiad and gain a stronghold, or head on straight to Enbarr in order to cease the chaos of Fódland once and for all. </p><p>Rhea was already a good enough reason to head on to Enbarr, but with the resources they have, they wouldn’t be able to do such a feat, more so when Edelgard would have ten or a hundred times the troops the Kingdom Army had as of the moment. They were in need of numbers, resources, and support; to put it bluntly, they were lacking in all of them and they were bound not to make it to the Empire’s stronghold alive.</p><p>It’s not only limited to what they lack, but Byleth suddenly envisions the circumstances of the Faerghus. The West was already taken and the Kingdom was bound to crumble under distress, House Fraldarius and Gautier were still resisting attacks from the Dukedom, it who knows how long they’d last?</p><p>Gilbert says that Felix’s father was willing to lend them a hand despite the circumstances. There was no time to feel undeserving for his help since they were backed into a corner. The next wave of Imperial troops might be larger than those they took down, if they don’t have any back up, they’ll be stuck defending the monastery.</p><p>With Rodrigue having his hands full with Dukedom, it would be a better choice to take it down with him since his forces could be depleting as they waited. It was a better plan to join forces with him and take the Kingdom capital, then spread the influence and hope to the people. There’s no doubt that if Dimitri were to return to his rightful place, their army would grow considerably.</p><p>Byleth focuses on a certain part of the map. </p><p>Gilbert taps his fingers against the table and gives an exhausted sigh. “Your Highness?” He rolls the map before handing it over to Dimitri.</p><p>Everyone in the room had their mouth shut in an instant, eyes all trained on the prince. If that happened to Byleth, he would at least squirm in discomfort by the sudden attention, but Dimitri was clearly unfazed; face unflinching at its usual ireful state. </p><p>“What is your stand on this?”</p><p>With arms sternly akimbo, he scoffed as if the answer couldn’t be any more obvious. “We march to Enbarr. She will die by my hand, and I want it sooner. Her death would greatly appease the dead.”</p><p>Somehow, it strikes a thought and a nerve. Byleth may have had an inkling as to why Dimitri was in such a state, yet he does his best not to think of it. At least, not at the moment.</p><p>“His Highness is right,” Mercedes agrees, “There’s a chance that Lady Rhea is held captive there. We might be able to save her sooner.”</p><p>“But the Kingdom also needs their king right now...” Ferdinand opposes.</p><p>“Your Highness, even though this would perhaps end this chaos immediately, the people of Fhirdiad need you,” Ingrid attempts to convince.</p><p>“Don’t you think ending the war would satisfy Fhirdiad too?” Leonie says. “I honestly think we should head to Enbarr first...”</p><p>“Well, Professor?” Seteth turns to Byleth, who tears his eyes from the map. “What do you suppose our next plan of action should be?”</p><p>His eyes flicker to that spot then back to Seteth.</p><p>“I say we take back Fhirdiad.” He feels confident about his decision, shoulders pulled back in certainty. No one utters a word, as he proceeds, “I believe that—“</p><p>A large bang against the table makes everyone simultaneously jolt. The map of Fódland crumples under Dimitri’s hands.</p><p>“Your Highness,” Gilbert solicits hesitantly.</p><p>“Have you had no sense in that mind of yours?” Dimitri glowers at Byleth.</p><p>“Your Highness. Please,” Gilbert warns.</p><p>Byleth felt so diffident with Dimitri, who was seemingly looming over him from across the table because he couldn’t bring himself to speak. It's as though his entire being was filled with the contriteness he’d bring with him for the rest of his life. But Byleth gives shoots him a look back. He won't submit to such acts, he can't sink if he was forced to drown, not even if it was Dimitri.</p><p>“Lady Rhea entrusted you to take responsibility, did she not? Someone who is in the right state of mind and who isn’t a fool would choose to take the Imperial capital down rather than go to Fhirdiad.”</p><p>“You didn’t let me finish,” Byleth mumbles.</p><p>“<em>What? </em> I can’t hear you, is your mouth sewed shut?”</p><p>“Oh, pardon me, I didn’t know you lost an ear along with an eye,” Byleth shoots.</p><p>Dimitri gives him a look of sheer irritation, “Imagine what Lady Rhea would think if she saw you like this. Clearly, you are nothing but a disappointment.“</p><p>“Stop it, you boar,” Felix cuts, his voice interrupting from the corner of the council table.</p><p>“Stay out of this,” Dimitri growls.</p><p>“What’s your problem anyway? To be treating the Professor like that— you… you bloody bastard!“</p><p>“Felix. Don’t.” Sylvain taps him lightly on the shoulder.</p><p>Dimitri snickered, “Keep running your mouth with meaningless words. Even Glenn would—“</p><p>“Don’t you dare bring him into this,” Felix hissed, fuming and standing from his seat only to be stopped by Sylvain. “Don’t you <em> fucking </em>dare.</p><p>“Alright, let’s just stop thi—” Byleth attempts only to be silenced.</p><p>“I don’t think I was talking to you,” Dimitri glares.</p><p>“That’s enough,” Seteth says.</p><p>“You’re a deranged bastard... you're nothing but a beast!" Felix continues, "Even calling you a boar wouldn’t suffice—“</p><p>“I said, that’s <em> enough! </em>” </p><p>All eyes are trained on Seteth and silence fills the atmosphere. Byleth finds it easier to breathe.</p><p>“Enough with the fighting. We are not each other’s enemies, so I require that you all stop treating each other with such abhorrence.” </p><p>Dimitri storms out of the room and slams the door behind him. Seteth sighs.</p><p>“And there he goes,” Felix scoffs, earning himself a glare from Seteth. </p><p>When they finally settled down, they came to a conclusion that their next course of action wouldn’t have to depend on having to go straight to Fhirdiad or Enbarr yet. Sylvain offered the idea that there would be some places in the East that remained opposed to the Imperial forces. Gilbert accepts the notion that they’d request backup from House Fraldarius. </p><p>When everyone began to exit the meeting room, Gilbert and Byleth fell behind the rest. </p><p>“I will dispatch the fastest messenger right away. Hopefully Rodrigue would be able to answer soon,” Gilbert says. </p><p>Byleth nods in response, “We need reinforcements after all. Who knows what would become of us in the next battle without much resources...”</p><p>“Professor?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“I apologize in His Highness’s stead,” he bows. “I’m sure he’s experiencing much at the moment. To lash at you in that way... it’s just not like him.”</p><p>Byleth feels the heat of panic, “Oh, no— please raise your head, Gilbert. You don’t need to apologize.”</p><p>“It’s my duty as his knight to take responsibility for his actions.”</p><p>“Please, Gilbert. I’m alright. It’s not like he did any damage.”</p><p>Gilbert gives Byleth a worried look, “Please allow me to talk some more sense into him. Though I’ve tried, I can’t seem to get any decent answer from him.”</p><p>“What did he say?”</p><p>“A lot of things, though I wouldn’t understand the majority of what he speaks. They’re mostly about heading to Enbarr slicing Edelgard’s head off. Most of the time, it was as though those words weren’t directed to me but someone else. Did you not notice that as well, Professor?”</p><p>Byleth did pass by the cathedral where Dimitri was often situated, however he never really had the audacity to approach the man. But he did notice the way Dimitri would talk like he was having a conversation with someone, his tone sounding so broken and so hopeless. </p><p>“I did notice, but I never caught anything he said.”</p><p>The knight sighs, “Well, in any case, I suggest that you leave him be for now to avoid any unneeded scrimmage that may occur. Might I remind you that there are people watching you both and that might be one of the reasons as to why we lack allies.”</p><p>It was baffling at first, being apologized to then having something overwrite it with the complete opposite. But Byleth had no words to say when Gilbert left the room, because he knew that he was far from being wrong.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>——</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>He was stubborn— persistent, he might say.</p><p>The morning was spent on doing rounds around the villages and listing down soldiers as they come. The previous battle didn’t leave them with many casualties, but there were still people who lost their lives due to the negligence of their leader, namely the prince who was staring at cathedral rubble at the moment.</p><p>Byleth knew very well that he was told to leave him alone, yet there he was again at the monastery, pretending to focus on counseling letters. As odd as it may seem, there were still people who asked for advice at this day and age even if the monastery was no longer an academy nor was he even a professor anymore. Seteth left the duty to him since people did ask for his services specifically.</p><p>Of course he couldn’t refuse, Byleth shuffled the notes as he kept an eye on Dimitri’s back meters away.</p><p>They were called in for lunch since Flayn spent all morning fishing. It was a rare case that she’d catch enough fish for at least the students and some of the knights, either way, it was news to be exhilarated over. On lucky days, people were willing to be selfless, bringing over some vegetables and spices once they knew that they could somehow contribute to the feast. As rare as it may be, it’s one of the reasons that keep them going in spite of the war.</p><p>Mouth watering at the thought of a feast in the dining hall, Byleth compiled the papers before setting the papers down. With the familiar clinking sound, he looks up to see Felix stomping towards his direction. </p><p>“You might as well bring that boar along,” Felix says. “It’s rare for us to have this much food.”</p><p>“Why don’t you ask him yourself?</p><p>Felix scoffs, “He won’t listen to me.”</p><p>Byleth lets out a breathy laugh, “As if that would change if I’m the one who asks him.”</p><p>“It will. You’re the only one he spares his words to.”</p><p>“Yes. I’d rather he spare me the arguments instead.”</p><p>Felix scoffs, “You know what I mean. Besides, I know the guilt would end up bothering you and you’d come back for him anyway.”</p><p>He wasn’t wrong, but Byleth knew that there wasn’t only guilt that would end up haunting him. There were plenty more emotions that could be derived from the mere look of his face, Byleth didn’t want to admit it and it’s not like he ever would.</p><p>But he does concede to Felix’s request. There are other people in the cathedral, eyeing the creature by the altar and avoiding him like a plague, but Byleth was already roughly a few feet away from Dimitri, who doesn’t seem preoccupied with talking to the air this time. Byleth gives a sharp inhale and approaches him.</p><p>“Dimitri?”</p><p>“Go away.”</p><p>As expected. He always ended up being agitated from the very start because he already knew that it would turn out to be this way. He should probably give up and move on to the feast, but it’s just as Felix told him, he won’t be able to eat properly with Dimitri in his mind. </p><p>He swore to himself that he’d resist the temper this time. Byleth should approach him nicely and keep going even when the words were too much.</p><p>Byleth invites him to the dining hall to eat with the rest and enjoy the feast. He tells him about the cheeses and the lamb skewers they brought in, Byleth says he might like the food this time around since it isn’t just the boiled vegetables or gruel they had to survive on. </p><p>He was putting in the effort, he really was. But Dimitri tells him to drop the act and leave him alone. Of course it doesn’t stop him, he’s more persistent this time, pestering him with words that would at least change their conversation around to something better. Perhaps a word could strike a chord and magically turn him back to the way it was, there were chances that Byleth believed in.</p><p>But it wasn’t long before he’s hanging onto a thread as fragile as a spider’s web. The urge was nudging the walls of his throat and more people had already noticed that they were going to lash out on each other again. Byleth should get away and head to the feast without him, but his feet stuck to where it was while the words mercilessly stab him. </p><p>And of course he gives in. To hell with having to take the blows, to hell with keeping his mouth shut. Byleth tries his best to keep his hands to himself, his fingers turning while he grabs his tunic. There’s no tasting the words before he spat them out, he was shouting at Dimitri about how unappreciative and selfish he was.</p><p>“Says the one who seems to love pushing people away. It’s not as though you were grateful for anything your students did for you,”  Dimitri shoots back.</p><p>He was right. Byleth knew he was right and he hated it. He hadn’t the time to question the audacity or his past at the moment, Byleth was just furious.</p><p>“Heavens, I’d be grateful if you would stop being such a <em> delusional </em> bastard.”</p><p>A loud bash resonates in the cathedral walls by the time he finishes his sentence. The strike makes him lose his balance; his legs staggering to keep him upright, but then collapses beneath him instead. Half of his face is on fire, burning as if he was shoved into the stove; the iron line pattern marks serving as the metallic plates on Dimitri’s knuckles. His mind was reeling, his surroundings whirled around him. </p><p>There are screams and murmuring around him; someone lifted his head on their lap, caging him in their arms, shouting incoherent words as the veins of their neck ran in aggravation. He never thought he'd ever hurt him like that.</p><p>Oh, he’s gone <em> that </em> far</p><p>Something hot drips down his nose, he catches it on his palms as it’s painting it red. He notices that Dimitri was still standing before him even when there were people starting to crowd him. Before he runs off to somewhere unknown, it’s the expression that engraves itself in Byleth’s head. A look of shock, so plangent and so pitiable— the expression that read that it was never intended.</p><p>Perhaps he should’ve just left him alone in the first place, perhaps he should’ve landed a punch or two, but something tells him that the Dimitri he once knew is still there, waiting to be saved by something that he couldn’t quite decipher. </p><p>Byleth doesn’t turn back time because he didn’t want to erase the reality that Dimitri had a chance to come back to his senses; he was furious but Byleth knew if he tried hard enough, he could save him and perhaps that alone could lead him to tell the truth.</p><p>He was brought to the infirmary without attending the feast. Of course he was still furious, the heat inside him eased a bit as he was being healed by Mercedes, but once Gilbert entered, informing him that the feast was over with nothing left, Byleth suddenly felt aggravated all over again. </p><p>It wasn’t anyone’s fault of course, but it’s a whirlwind of events that hit him, irritating him more and causing a curse to hang by the tip of his tongue.</p><p>“This is a mess,” Gilbert laments, pinching the sides of his head with his index and thumb.</p><p>“I’m alright, really. She healed it quite well so it's probably back to normal now,” Byleth shrugs. It's a good thing the punch was on the side of his head where his hair could cover the bruises.</p><p>“That’s not that point. Ah. That’s not what I meant— it’s just not what I intended to say,” he mumbles to himself, seemingly stressed by the entire situation. “What I meant to say was that the Kingdom Army’s reputation would— oh, goddess forgive me. I didn’t mean that—“</p><p>“I’m fine, Gilbert.”</p><p>“No. This is not concerning <em> you </em>,” Gilbert states sharply. “It’s not fine because you disobeyed my orders. Now his reputation and the entire Kingdom Army is tainted with an image that people would never forget—”</p><p>“I don’t think I’m the only one at fault here,” Byleth says with incredulity. </p><p>It’s not fair that he was the one being scolded at when all he ever wanted was to invite Dimitri to the feast.</p><p>“You still manage to bemuse him into another fight when clearly ordered you not to.”</p><p>“I just wanted to <em>invite</em> him.”</p><p>“I’m sure we all would’ve <em>wanted</em> to,” Gilbert mimics his tone. “But because of that little stunt you have done, it’s clear that our allies will start leaving one by one. You fail to receive anyone’s faith because you refuse to listen.”</p><p>“Bringing up that point doesn’t conceal the fact that you would leave Dimitri alone if you were in my place.”</p><p>“Heavens, where did you get that idea? Are you forgetting the fact that I am His Highness's loyal knight?”</p><p>“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re too afraid to approach him.”</p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p>“You don’t even <em> try </em> to correct him. You claim that you’re trying your best to ‘talk some sense’ into him, but the truth is, you aren’t. You watch from the sidelines and pin his faults on me!”</p><p>“Well, it is your fault, isn’t it? None of this would have happened if you never approached him.”</p><p>“Oh, don’t even try to bring that up again,” Byleth sighs. “Open your eyes, Gilbert. Your penitence for the people who died in that tragedy years ago keeps you from seeing the truth.”</p><p>It was digging up secrets that they swore not to talk about again. Using it against him was quite immature, but Byleth was too agitated to even care. Why was he always the one to blame for everything?</p><p>“Don’t talk to me as though you do not bear some sort of penitence from His Highness,” Gilbert shoots.</p><p>“I may be a hypocrite, but that’s the truth, isn’t it?”</p><p>Gilbert frowns, “How immature of you to speak like that.”</p><p>“Your overbearing guilt doesn’t see past my immaturity.”</p><p>The knight’s hand rakes through his ginger hair, “This is ridiculous. I fail to see how you speak the truth when my loyalty to His Highness is nonpareil.”</p><p>“If your mere loyalty is your definition of caring, then I suggest that you stop using Dimitri to atone for your sins. Let’s see if you are able to tell him straight to the face that he should stop slacking off and work for the Kingdom Army that seems to be collapsing under <em> my </em> command,” Byleth points to himself.</p><p>“How dare you speak that way of my actions.” Gilbert grimmances, “I don’t understand why they call you the goddess if this is how you act.”</p><p>There, the words came spilling without thought; his anger fuels his tongue to sharpen out of place. He knows he should keep his mouth shut before he could say something he can’t take back.</p><p>But Byleth could feel the heat rising through his throat, and he can’t seem to stop.</p><p>“This is why your prayers are never answered no matter how many times you pray. You are nothing but a fool.”</p><p>“You are no different than this <em> fool </em> if you can’t help the King return to himself, hm? Humor me with your nonsense,” Gilbert glares. “What’s so different about you and I, if we’re both so helpless and unsuccessful in trying to get Dimitri back?”</p><p>Without hesitation, Byleth speaks out of cholera.</p><p>“We’re both guilt-driven bastards, but I <em> am </em> the goddess whereas you are nobody.”</p><p>He aches. Not the bruises, but the heaviness that weighs within after the words come out his damned mouth. It was a despicable, idiotic thing to say such a thing. He feels Sothis’s phantom somewhere, scolding him for such an act. Yet, it could’ve just been himself with the shadow of guilt growing larger as the seconds pass.</p><p>Since when has he claimed his title as the goddess? When was he ever <em> worthy </em>of it?</p><p>Gilbert looks away in desolation and Byleth regrets everything. The knight is at a loss for words as his lips press into a thin line. </p><p>“Gilbert… I—“</p><p>“I’ll leave you alone for now... please get some rest,” Gilbert says without looking at him then turns to leave.</p><p>As if he became sober from his state of anger, only then Byleth realized that what he did was terribly wrong. It was never Gilbert’s fault as to why he was constantly getting hurt by Dimitri or why he could never have a proper conversation with him, it wasn’t his fault as to why he’s burdened with such tasks. Gilbert was rubbing salt to the wound, but he never deserved such words, especially the ones Byleth used against him when he opened up to him that one time.</p><p>He could just rewind the hands of time and retract that statement, but his mind was a mess, intruded by unwanted thoughts swirling around. Gilbert was long gone, the halls outside and he infirmary no longer echoing his footsteps. </p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>“Ah! There he is!”</p><p>Wait.</p><p>“It took you nearly six years and a new hair color, didn’t ‘cha?”</p><p>Why was he there again?</p><p>“Is it true that you’re the goddess?”</p><p>“If you are, I’d gladly have some of that.”</p><p>The villager from when he woke up was right, the tavern still remained unlike the other shops and stalls that have been standing on the streets as long as it did; they’ve been massacred, half a decade their debris scattered beneath the soil, yet the tavern remains untouched and sturdy just like how he remembered.</p><p>The excess liquid had gone dry in the empty bottles of whiskey lying in his quarters. None of his battalion members had any to spare, they claim that they were managing on water for the week, but it’s probably to hide the limited stock they have left. Byleth doesn’t push them of course, it’s not as though he was permitted to be staggering with alcohol on duty.</p><p>Then he recalls that there was one place that gave him drinks for free before. Work was burning him out and his throat was dry from having nothing to drink but water. When everyone retreated to their quarters, he rode out to Varley.</p><p>It was nostalgic being in the same place despite it being the reason why his reputation was so tainted. For some reason, he wasn’t feeling the same intoxicating, addictions sensation from before. </p><p>Perhaps it was because of Dimitri again. The damned price who changed drastically over half a decade only to become someone so morbid and apathetic about death itself. The prince who attempted to kill him numerous times in a span of a few weeks. The prince who seemed so disillusioned by something Byleth didn’t understand because of his fatuity. Byleth curses himself for thinking about him at such a time.</p><p>The bartender was glad to see his familiar face, so was the shopkeeper, his intention from the start beginning to blossom as it died when he never came back after that incident. Just as he thought, they didn't charge him the actual amount, but he was quite short on money. Five bottles were more expensive than he thought, all he could afford with what was in his pocket was a single bottle.</p><p>He was staring at the gold in his hand as a man slid to the counter and dropped gold that was enough for the bottles Byleth wanted to have. </p><p>“For the goddess,” the man smirks at Byleth, he slides them over to him with an arm. </p><p>Byleth thanks him before taking the bottles to leave. But it’s obvious that no one was going to let him off the hook that easily, the man trailed behind him before he could even get to his horse. There was going to be a fee no matter how they seemed to let him off the hook, Byleth would’ve known what he wanted so he gave him the few gold he had.</p><p>“It’s all I have,” Byleth hands him the gold. “I’m sorry, but I don’t do that anymore.”</p><p>But the man refuses. Instead of what he thinks it is, he asks for a meal with him instead. Flabbergasted by the request, Byleth quickly gets back to his senses, knowing that he’s bound to be taken advantage of. He knows those types too well, they’re nice until they aren't.</p><p>Then he thinks of the papers piling on his desk back in the monastery, all the recruits, all the scriptures he had to review, all the revising, and some sort of speech for people to believe in the church he would represent. It made him irritated all over again, so he decided to join the man. He could protect himself with his sword and shift when he wanted to anyway.</p><p>And it’s not as bad as he thought it was going to be. People don’t see him enter a house since it’s nearing midnight. Byleth was seated on the floor of a nice, humble abode in Varley. It was quiet except for the crackling fire under a set of drawings that might have been the man’s family or lover. Byleth doesn’t ask about it, especially not when the man lays a plate of loach sautéed with dried tomatoes.</p><p>He takes a nibble, but when he sees that the stranger was taking from the same plate he knows it’s not poisoned. Byleth indulges in the delicacy similar to that of the monastery days when food seemed everlasting.</p><p>The man apologizes for the drab meal, but Byleth shakes his head. It was a rare catch, he says, it was his intention to share it with people but no one was familiar with him as he was a wandering mercenary who was away most of the time.</p><p>“But why me?” Byleth asks.</p><p>“Because you’re the goddess,” he shrugs, “and you looked like you wanted company.”</p><p>“Perhaps it’s the other way around,” Byleth says in jest.</p><p>But the man breathes out a laugh in response, “Perhaps it is.”</p><p>It was hours talking and the man didn’t pull any suspicious stunt. He rambled on about the war, talking about the small skirmishes around town, the state of Adrestia, the crest discrimination about Fódland that no one seemed to have the courage to speak about. It wasn’t long before Byleth took the bottles of ale and started drinking from it as he listened.</p><p>“That wasn’t for your troops, was it?” The man raises a brow with a small smirk on his lips. Byleth realizes that his stubble was awfully familiar, but it’s not as though he didn’t favor it.</p><p>He hands one of the other bottles to him, “Not now it isn’t.”</p><p>“Oh, those are yours.”</p><p>“You paid for it, might as well take it.”</p><p>He eventually concedes and they drink grape ale. It was malty and bitter, but the hit that leaves him dizzy is what Byleth was drinking for. Five bottles weren’t enough, the man brings in more from the cabinets and pours some in the used bottles. Byleth had his own share of stories, but he tries his best to keep them somewhat classified. </p><p>“It must be difficult to carry all those responsibilities on your shoulders.”</p><p>“It is,” Byleth agrees, “running away comes to mind sometimes, but I know that there will be nothing left for me if I do.”</p><p>“If you ran away, I’m sure I wouldn’t be so hopeful about ending this war.”</p><p>“You believe that I could?”</p><p>“A lot of people do,” he looks at him. “The rumors certainly weren’t so pretty before, but who has the audacity to care about that when you’re the one who possesses the power to bring us salvation?”</p><p>There he notices his eyes are blue. They’re just like the sea under the light of the fire, and it’s drawing him in because it’s so sickeningly familiar. For a moment, his hair isn’t ebony, but blonde, and it makes Byleth wonder if things could’ve been different if he hadn’t slept for so long, if he hadn’t left him and saved him from whatever was haunting him to this very day.</p><p>Perhaps, if things were different, this man’s words were going to be his words instead. Perhaps he’d have faith in him instead of having those insensible fights that they never needed. Perhaps… he’d be looking at him the same way this man was.</p><p>Much to his frustration, he chugged down the entire liquor bottle and nausea belted him hard in the head; he could feel the hot liquid running down his throat, the sensation careening towards his stomach. There it was. Heightened than it was before, he could feel himself growing fond of his dizziness.</p><p>The man was still talking when he felt something rise within, the sensation that was nothing more than second nature to him. It’s impossible, it’s impossible for that man to not want something else than a dinner. He <em> is </em> the goddess, he was going to taint his reputation if this man was to utter a word about what he wanted to do.</p><p>But when he sees his eyes again, he chooses to rekindle the feeling of being ‘alive’. It’s subtle like a blow of the wind, they’re sitting by the fireplace after they laughed the hours away, then he kisses him. His mind isn’t too foggy as it was before, he could feel the small pricks against the sides of his mouth as he tasted the bitter taste of ale. There’s a noise against his lips and he pulls back.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“I…” Byleth reconsiders his words, “I have no other way to thank you.”</p><p>The man shakes his head, “You don’t have to thank me this way, you’ve already let go of that, isn’t that what you said?”</p><p>He has. Byleth knew he did. At least he thinks he did. He was so conflicted with himself that his mind urged his body to stop moving and run away. But it comes to him as an unhampered action, it’s just like a blink of an eye, a reflex of a muscle. </p><p>He’s so used to it, he knew that it couldn’t end like this. It’s just not possible.</p><p>“I don’t know,” Byleth's eyes flicker to his hands, and they’re trembling. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”</p><p>Then there it was, noise at the back of his head, rising and rising until he thinks he’d rather go deaf. He thought it was gone a long time ago, but it hits him like a strike of lightning this time and he scrambles for the alcohol to drown it out.</p><p>The bottles are empty and he’s in a state of panic, the man tries to calm him down but he can’t. There are voices that join in the cacophony of noise and they scramble themselves in his head like the only way to stop them was to fall head first from the edge of a cliff.</p><p>The man takes him by the shoulders, “Are you al—“</p><p>“Save me,” Byleth says in shaky breaths. “Just this one night, please save me.”</p><p>He’s begging him with his entire being. Seeing him so helpless was a shame, it was a downfall for dignity and a path to a broken reputation. It’s similar to before, he recalls how he drew Claude in just to fill a fraction of his hollowness. But it’s not just his devastation this time, it’s blocking out the noise, it’s an attempt to fixate himself on a feeling he’s familiar with.</p><p>It’s blinking. It’s breathing. It’s a heartbeat. It’s something that’s beyond his control and has been irremovable since the moment it was etched into his body. </p><p>Byleth can’t drown himself in alcohol, so he drowns himself in the heat of a stanger. He kisses him until he can’t breathe, until he can focus on his lips instead of the buzzing in his head. He found himself staring at the blurred ceiling of the house, his hands buried into a stranger’s hair as they licked from his collar bone down to the curve of his stomach. He’s inhaling through his mouth, taking in all the warmth he could get before he gasps and his breathing goes out of its own rhythm. </p><p>He begs him. He begs him not to say a word about it and that man responses with a hum that vibrates against his skin.</p><p>Oil drips down when he realizes it’s been too long, it’s burning like whiskey running down his throat; he’s stretching him open and keeps his mouth on his so he’s focusing on the touch. He doesn’t notice the scales emerging along his chest, every time the man ran his fingers over them and the bruises along his neck, he’d shake.</p><p>It’s blunt against his entrance, then it comes pushing in; he brokenly gasps and the spiraling vision of his adds the stars of the night sky, swirling through his half-lidded sight. </p><p>His back arcs from the floor beneath him, hands sliding from the other man’s waist, up to his shoulders and pulling him closer and closer, just as if they could already merge into one. When he had begun thrusting is when he loses touch of reality, the noise fades away, and the warm pit of pleasure pooling in the abdomen sparks throughout the entire system just like a flash of thunder that strikes. </p><p>He squeezes his eyes shut, seeking for the comfort he’s looked through the years he’d missed; through his unsteady state, he sought the feeling of living. There’s something in the room that gives off the aroma of chamomile tea, perhaps it was just there all this time but he’d fail to notice. </p><p>The scent makes him dizzy with a vision, the darkness paints a picture of the garden, he holds the tea gingerly in between his palms and a person gives a laugh. A light laugh that rings in his ears and overpowers the sounds of his heavy breathing. His nails dig into flesh as he nears the apex, he watches the room distort into something else; the more he looks, the more he stares, the more scars there were, more bloodstains, more cries. </p><p>He says something he doesn’t quite hear, but when he sees the stranger’s face, it contorts to something of concern before pulling him in to reach deeper. When Byleth reaches the peak, everything turns black.</p><p>The sun isn’t out when he wakes, a heavy arm was wrapped around his shoulder from behind. It occurs to him that he had stayed too long, and though it was a Sunday, he still had some work to do. Byleth sneaks out from the stranger’s grasp and he catches the sight of his sword. </p><p>Perhaps it was better off killing him instead of dreading the possible occurrence that he would tell everyone that he slept with him and that he hasn’t changed from before. Being vulnerable to one was already enough, he didn’t need people to see the mess he was lying under the image he wanted them to see.</p><p>He’s raising his sword at the sleeping man, he knows that with one swing, he could put an end to the uncertainty rising in him. </p><p>But he isn’t like Rhea, he reminds himself. He wouldn’t kill anyone to save his skin because it wasn’t fair. Jeralt would never do that, and neither should he.</p><p>When he opens the door to the room, he gives the man one last look. The shape of his back was similar to someone’s but he doesn’t speak of it. He wouldn’t even dare.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>——</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Rodrigue sends a letter to them regarding the reinforcements. It arrives during one of their meetings where Seteth was silently chiding him for exuding a grape scent that he could recognize as alcohol. </p><p>“How could you tell?” Byleth asks, genuinely curious.</p><p>“I have a sharp sense of smell,” Seteth says.</p><p>“Like a hound.”</p><p>Byleth earns another earful of scolding.</p><p>They are told to meet in Aillel, an extremely hot wasteland hidden from the enemy forces. There was not much planning since the objective was just to receive the resources from Rodrigue. By the end of the meeting, Byleth debates whether he would apologize to Gilbert since he was there anyway, but he debates too long that the knight leaves before he could even say a word to him.</p><p>His reluctance lasts for the longest time. Even when the day of the meeting Rodrigue comes.</p><p>He’s hesitant but when they’re caught off-guard in Aillel, he couldn’t bring himself to think of apologizing to Gilbert, Dimitri, and other things when the heat clouded his thoughts. Sweat rolled down the sides of his temple, the heat waves were caught in his vision. He was used to the heat, yet he wanted to get out of the place as soon as possible.</p><p>But instead of making the journey quick, he sees the enemy swirling about in the distance. They had no other choice but to battle their way out of it.</p><p>For some reason, Byleth thinks that the enemy looks strange. Their skin is a sickly pale color that would seem almost transparent. It was the heat getting into his head, but the lack of expression when Byleth pierced him with his claws bothered him. </p><p>When he sees the blood on his claws, it’s darker than crimson. He had no time to think of it, because another soldier went after him. He squints, thinking about the pale hands of the masked opponent.</p><p>He knew his movements were gauche since Linhardt trailed behind him, his white magic glowing against the gashes and cuts on his skin. Byleth knew that it was the strange pale soldiers that landed a couple of hits, their movements were quick, but then again, they were Aillel. Not even the power of the goddess could save him from that.</p><p>“You’re looking pale, Professor,” Linhardt states. “I know the heat is intense, but no one’s looking as pale as you are. Did your wounds heal properly?”</p><p>They didn’t even have that much time to heal, and to think that he was talking about the ones that didn’t even come from battle made Byleth feel pathetic. “The bruises are fine.”</p><p>Byleth pauses, “Speaking of pale…” there was another enemy in range. A normal soldier, he would like to think. </p><p>“What?” Linhardt asks.</p><p>“Nevermind.” He thinks it’s just the heat getting to him.</p><p>In the midst of the vague surroundings, Byleth was able to go through the battle even when no strategy was there to support the rest of the army. Casualties were minimal and by the end of it, the meeting with Rodrigue was fulfilled. </p><p>Felix had his arms crossed when he saw his father, Gilbert’s face relaxed to the relief that they were able to keep the leader of House Fraldarius alive, and Dimitri looked somewhat content with his presence. The same expression he had when he talked about Rodrigue five years ago. Byleth recalled those memories just like they transpired yesterday.</p><p>He aches.</p><p>Rodrigue was having a conversation with Dimitri, but immediately halted when he noticed Byleth’s presence. The man laughs heartily, “So, the rumors <em> were </em> true. The goddess has returned.” Rodrigue places his hand on Byleth’s shoulder, “It’s a blessing to have you back, Professor.”</p><p>“You’re looking well despite everything,” Byleth smiles.</p><p>“Oh, don’t let my looks deceive you. It’s chaos back in Fhirdiad. I’m just glad I made it back here in one piece and that the news told to me was no bluff.”</p><p>“What news, if I may ask?” Gilbert asks.</p><p>“That Dimitri and the Professor were alive,” Rodrigue says. “When I first heard that Dimitri was going to be executed, I rushed to Fhirdiad right away. It was odd how it wasn’t a public execution and how they refused to display his head, Cornelia would’ve boasted about how the Blaiddyd bloodline had finally ended, but she didn’t. Just like me, there were people in me who believed that His Highness was still alive, and even in this very moment,” he faces Dimitri, “they await your presence.”</p><p>If there was anyone who could convince Dimitri to take back the Kingdom, it was Rodrigue— Byleth hoped.</p><p>He hoped, yet Dimitri scowled. “We’re taking down Enbarr.”</p><p>“Your Highness, the people of Fhirdiad need you. The Kingdom is in chaos and only you could help them. Only you could pull them from the clutches of the Empire.”</p><p>“There’s no time for that. They’re waiting. They want her head,” Dimitri growled.</p><p>Byleth couldn’t seem to understand, Rodrigue on the other hand, already caught up with the context of what Dimitri has said. </p><p>“But which is more important? The dead or the living? Marching to Enbarr solely for the sake of revenge wouldn’t yield a good outcome. I’m sure Lambert would’ve said the same.”</p><p><em> Oh </em>. </p><p>Byleth felt as if he were finally on the page of enlightenment. The altar. The dead. The conversations. The thirst for revenge. That’s what he saw. That’s what he was going through. Now that he thought of it— now that he realized, he envisions himself sitting on the grass and staring at the all too familiar cracks of the tombstone. Byleth finally realized.</p><p>He realized he was no different before. </p><p>Dimitri’s eyes go wide for a fleeting moment before narrowing in anger, “Silence.”</p><p>There was a strong urge to barge into the conversation, but Byleth knew better, knew well enough that this was something he shouldn’t partake in unless he wanted to get beaten up again or make things worse than they already were. Even Gilbert himself didn’t attempt to speak.</p><p>“No, Dimitri. You will listen to what I have to say. I am a close friend of his, I’m certain he would’ve said the same.”</p><p>“Don’t you dare put words into the mouths of the dead. They are <em> your </em> words alone. The dead in this world are silenced— unable to speak their thoughts and grasp revenge for themselves. Their suffering is ceaseless no matter what you say in their honor.”</p><p>Rodrigue stays silent, probably debating over the options in his mind. In the end, he sighs defeatedly. “Alright. You are our King. Whatever you request, we shall comply.”</p><p>With another unsuccessful attempt, Byleth looks away. He watches how Dimitri’s face drastically changes when Rodrigue hands him a relic he stole back from Fhirdiad. A hybrid of shock and gratitude contorts on his face, then he mumbles a low ‘thank you’ to Rodrigue. </p><p>The red stone on the Areadbhar glows to life once he wraps his fingers around the lance. </p><p>The light sends a glare to Byleth, making him realize his uneasiness from within. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the next chapter definitely isn’t going to be pretty, so heads up for that one. it’s... ah, just take a look at the tags again. hope you guys keep reading despite the laggy updates... i need to graduate so please bear with me.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“The scent of our blood was similar that one night. I can never bring myself to forget it.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>— written in a fabulist‘s notebook, retrieved from the King’s quarters</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b> take note of this warning. if rape is a triggering topic for you, please skip this chapter </b>
</p><p> </p><p>ahhh here it is. apologies for the long wait, this one took me a while to fix. i'll be honest and say this wasn't the best chapter to write.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b> <em>G r e a t  T r e e  M o o n</em> </b>
</p><p>“Up late again, Professor?”</p><p>It’s a cold night. Byleth couldn’t get any sleep, by the time he closed his eyes, he opened them quickly, afraid that he was going to hear that deafening noise once more. With no alcohol in the dining hall, he knew he couldn’t be reckless enough to go out. It’s a good thing he was recently assigned to the orphans before the rest of the troops arrive, it was enough reason to stay awake but never enough to let the fatigue settle in. So, he wandered around the monastery until his feet led him to the Goddess Tower.</p><p>His elbows were propped upon the parapet of the tower, his mind distracted from staring at the gaping hole on the cathedral roof when Rodrigue appeared from behind him. </p><p>“I couldn’t sleep.” And he really couldn’t bring himself to. No matter how exhausted he was from duty, his mind wouldn’t cease to run. Always thinking of the worst outcomes of every battle, every decision, every action he made.</p><p>“Neither can I. Might I ask, why the Goddess Tower of all places?” Rodrigue breathes out a weak laugh, “Looking for love perhaps?”</p><p>It was a nice thought, though the phantom of hands roamed around his body; he could almost feel the way the fingers started digging on his skin, almost tearing through the fabric of his clothes. </p><p>Byleth flinches, “Of course not.” </p><p>His feet brought him there for no particular reason. Perhaps not to reminisce, but gaze at the overview of the entire Garreg Mach. Even if he did try to concentrate on the view before him, the touch littered themselves from his lips to the crevices of his hip bones. </p><p>There’s no telling if it was the past haunting him, or the past beyond that. A past he couldn’t seem to recall.</p><p>“Is it alright that I join you tonight?”</p><p>Byleth nods.</p><p>“I appreciate it.”</p><p>Rodrigue settles his elbows on the stone parapet like Byleth does and breathes out a wanton sigh. The cold air of the night embraces them both in silence. Byleth wishes he could find his peace of mind like this everyday.</p><p>“It’s been years, yet it feels as though I were still in my monastery days, admiring the view of the cathedral through the Goddess Tower. To think that it would end up like this after seeing it five years ago... melancholic, isn’t it?”</p><p>“It really is,” Byleth agrees as his eyes trail back to the hole on the roof of the cathedral. Half a decade and numerous things have changed drastically. Half a decade and there was so much— too much he lost.</p><p>“You’ve been here?” He asks Rodrigue.</p><p>“I believe that was a long time ago. I was a student in Garreg Mach once, my good friend and I would use this place as some sort of secret base.”</p><p>“Any plans to revisit with your friend?”</p><p>Rodrigue gives a weak laugh, “I wish, though King Lambert had already passed nine years ago.”</p><p>The name doesn’t strike as familiar. “King… Lambert?”</p><p>“Dimitri’s father. He and I were good friends in the academy. Lambert was… always so noble and upright, though reckless at some instances. The Kingdom and his family are what matter to him the most as he genuinely took care of both. It’s unfortunate that such a man would be killed by such a tragedy.”</p><p>“Oh,” Byleth silently replied. It occurs to him that Dimitri did tell him about the Tragedy of Duscur that involved his father’s death and how Rodrigue was someone he looked up to, somehow the puzzle in his head was starting to make sense.</p><p>“I haven’t been to the Goddess Tower since there was no particular reason for me to be here— well, not until I saw you taking the stairs.”</p><p> “You were... following me?”</p><p>“From the time you left the graveyard? Yes, I have been. I apologize for my curiosity.”</p><p>“It’s— it’s alright,” Byleth says, quite irked at the thought he was being watched as he sat by the coffins, unmoving and all. It bothered him how he was beginning to become so similar to Dimitri when it was never his intention. Perhaps they were similar in that aspect, never really able to move on from the ones who have passed.</p><p>“Seeing you sitting like that by the grave of your parents... it reminded me of my eldest son,” Rodrigue admitted, gazing over the monastery.</p><p>Oddly, it registered quickly because of his overall familiarity with it. He recalls the time he overheard the name being the topic of dispute between Ingrid and Felix. The same name would also slip from Dimitri’s mouth at times. The very same name that set Felix off when Dimitri said it with such malignancy. </p><p>“Glenn,” Byelth breathes. “He’s... he’s no longer here, isn’t he?”</p><p>“He passed some time ago,” Rodrigue replied. “The same tragedy where His Highness's father was slain. When I lost my son, it was truly a difficult time for me. As I tried to mask my forlornness, I ended up saying something I shouldn’t have. It’s the reason why Felix despises me so much. The way I talked about the death of my own son so lightly...”</p><p>Byleth stays silent, not knowing what to say since even he doesn’t take death so lightly— most especially if it were someone of great significance. He diddles with the stone bits on the parapet.</p><p>Rodrigue goes on, “The closer the dead were, the tighter their hold. The more you loved them— cherished them, the deeper the wounds they leave. That’s why I can't blame His Highness for behaving this way. I can’t blame him for constantly mourning, for constantly bearing the guilt of being alive. I’m sure you felt the same once, did you not?”</p><p>No matter how much he didn’t want to think about it, Byleth would think about how his death would’ve been better for everyone. It’s guilt constantly dawning on him, it’s his worthlessness and undeserving self that refuses everything. Responsibilities, relationships, and the very fact that he was still living.</p><p>He’s walking on a blank canvas and staining it with colors that mix and create an ugly hue on white. Even so, he selfishly continued to walk. It’s because of Jeralt and Sothis he’s alive, if there was anything he’d like to do right before he stops walking, it was to make sense of the words they’ve given him before leaving forever.</p><p>“I did,” Byelth admits.</p><p>Rodrigues smiles weakly, “It’s the reason why we find speaking sense into him very difficult because we become hypocrites. Even we are haunted by those who no longer tread alongside us.”</p><p>For a fleeting moment, his mind takes him back to those days. Before he was looking at the hole on the cathedral, before there was a war, before he was even a goddess; those monastery days that just seemed to go by as quick as a breeze. </p><p>The guilt bubbles up in his chest when he thinks of him again. He was smiling, yet Byleth now knew that he was always seconds away from falling apart. Seeing Edelgard as the enemy snapped his final thread. As much as Byleth wanted to put them back together, he was cutting them into smaller pieces, lessening the chances of them ever getting fixed.</p><p>“I just... I just want him back,” he says close to a whisper. </p><p>“And I believe that only you could bring him back to his senses,” Rodrigue says. Byleth faces him in disbelief. </p><p>“Oh, no,” Byleth opposes. “If it’s anyone, it’s you who could bring him to his senses.”</p><p>Rodrigue shakes his head, “That’s where you’re wrong, Professor. I am aware that you know him well. His Highness listens to you.”</p><p>“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m no longer his teacher, so he doesn’t have to listen to me anymore… we just end up arguing every time.”</p><p>“If you have the ability to lead our troops, prevail in every battle, and bring everyone together, then convincing Dimitri must be a trivial matter to you. With all the burden on your shoulders, I’m sure you barely had any time to talk to him properly.”</p><p>Of course anyone who didn’t hear about the past had that image of him in their heads. He was the hope for salvation, he was the goddess, he was everything he was not. There was always this thought at the back of his head, asking him if he was really suited for such a role, if he was even worth it.</p><p>Byleth sighs. Dimitri was right. Perhaps he <em> is </em>a disappointment.</p><p>“You… you misunderstand,” Byleth chuckles weakly. “I can’t convince him even if we talk.”</p><p>“I’m sure you can,“ Rodrigue presses. “Think about it. If you make him agree to reclaiming the Kingdom, imagine how easier it will be for you and for everyone else.”</p><p>“I know that but—“</p><p>“Then you must talk to him. The sooner Faerghus is fixed, the sooner we will be able to overthrow the Empire.”</p><p>And there it was again. Somehow, he could channel the frustration Felix felt for his father. Perhaps he was trying to make him feel better, perhaps this was the way he alleviated the burden of people’s concerns, but it was downright irritating. </p><p>“I know that.”</p><p>He knew he should get away before it got any worse, the fine string was about to break, but this was the man who had given them supplies and support without hesitation.</p><p>“Then why do you hesitate?”</p><p>Byleth can’t. It takes so little to get on his nerves, he might as well think that he was going insane. He can’t be rude, he can’t talk back, but his hands are balling up against the parapet as he isn’t looking at the lord anymore.</p><p>“I can’t,” Byleth says under his breath.</p><p>“What do you mean you—“</p><p>“I just— <em>can’t!</em> <em>Alright?!</em>”</p><p>There’s a faint sound of the stone cracking beneath the fist pounding against the parapet of the tower. Scales had formed behind the palm of his hand and slink back in when he collects his breath.</p><p>And he’s done it again. Lashing out at people who didn’t deserve it, letting the irritation get the best of him when he was clearly their image of hope. It was all too much and he was crumbling.</p><p>“I’m… I’m so sorry,” he faces Rodrigue, who was still stunned by his sudden outburst. “I shouldn’t have—“</p><p>“Oh, no,” Rodrigue clears his throat, “I’m the one who has to apologize. I was being rather inconsiderate.”</p><p>They stand in silence though Byleth was just grateful that Rodrigue was still there. He could’ve walked out like Gilbert did, but he stayed for a few more minutes before breaking the silence again.</p><p>“You can tell me,” Rodrigue says to him, softly, as though he were speaking to a child, “about what’s been bothering you.”</p><p>It was always so closed off, there were barriers of what he could tell others and what he couldn’t. It’s either make up a story or brush off the question or request. He was a liar, perhaps he could use that again tonight. Though for some reason, Byleth doesn’t want to. He wanted to sob and drown in his own tears. He wanted to run away and leave everything behind. The words come inching up his throat, then he tells Rodrigue the truth. </p><p>His fingers mindlessly rolled the stone pebbles as he talked about the Kingdom Army, the new recruits, the religion, the damage caused, the limited supply, and many more things that were the natural slip of his tongue.</p><p>It eventually comes to the topic of his past and how it’s nothing but a blank slate. Byleth speaks of Jeralt and his mother, and how his crest was nothing more than means to save him. He tells him off regrets and worthlessness, things that made him feel as though he never deserved the world when he was bound to tear it all apart. </p><p>Speaking of it reminded him of his father. The conversations were quite similar to ones like these, moments of telling the truth, moments of being vulnerable to him and only him. Looking back at those moments, perhaps he should’ve told him everything. He should’ve let everything go, but he wouldn't even know where to begin. </p><p>After years of hesitation, there’s nothing left to say because they’ve forgotten. There’s nothing left because he was long gone.</p><p>“Perhaps… if I have never existed, everyone would’ve been happier,” Byleth said. “Especially my parents.”</p><p>He halts when Rodrigue places his hand on his shoulder. </p><p>“Don’t be so harsh on yourself.” His sigh isn’t tired, but light like reminiscing a good memory. “I will not deny that life will always seem like a painful path to tread since we all seem like failures to ourselves as we are undeserving and imperfect. But you know why you choose to live on, don’t you?”</p><p>The thought comes vague to him but he could find the answer somehow. Other than being trapped in his own false identities and having to live up to what they expected of him, there was purpose and belief of something he couldn’t quite understand. Despite the many times he’s tried to take his own life, there was always this urge that made him stop. </p><p>Words. Words that made up a will. And a will that kept him there until his very last breath.</p><p>“For what I… believe in?”</p><p>“That’s correct. You and I chose to live because of our foundation—because of our faith. The reason why you’re standing here today despite all of your endeavors is because you believe. You chose to live for what you believe in.”</p><p>For a fleeting moment, he sees his father leaning on the parapet instead, his calm smile etched to his memory like it was just yesterday they had their usual meetings over tea and beer. </p><p>It was painfully beautiful.</p><p>“But I don’t even know what I believe in nor the very reason for my existence.”</p><p>“We all don’t. There’s never a sole reason to keep on living, but the drive to figure out the answers can simply lead you this far.” He pauses. “You believe that you’ll have the answers in the end that’s why you kept going on anyway.”</p><p>It was a one out of the numerous reasons, only a tiny speck in the midst of millions. There were reasons to live and reasons to end it all, perhaps they were equal in number and perhaps they weren’t. He was constantly in between both sides, but he’d like to clear the path one day.</p><p>“Perhaps you can include the end of this war to your list of reasons, just know that I’ll be here to help you see it,” Rodrigue assures him.</p><p>Byleth’s fingers halt on the parapet, “Do you really think that I could bring an end to this war?”                                                                                                   </p><p>The lord gives him a small smile before immediately answering. “Of course,” he tells him as though it were something obvious. “My faith grew deeper after speaking to you like this. Not my faith in the goddess, but my faith in <em>you</em>.”</p><p>Perhaps he had to put all those thoughts aside for a moment. Whether he was worth being a teacher. Whether he was worth being the goddess. Whether he was worth being by anyone’s side. Perhaps he should take the moment to breathe and gather his thoughts, hopefully he could summon his courage to move on.</p><p>“We have the Bridge of Myrddin to worry about this month. You’re not afraid we won’t prevail, are you?”</p><p>He thinks about how his strategies would crumble once Dimitri sets a foot into the battlefield. “Perhaps just a bit,” Byleth admits.</p><p>“No need to fret,” Rodrigue laughs lightly. “I’ll see to it that one day we’ll be able to reminisce about these days once the war is over. I promise that I will do what it takes for you to witness the birth of a new nation.”</p><p>Byleth smiles at Rodrigue and thanks him as he lowers his head. They position themselves by the parapet once more, no longer looking at Garreg Mach beneath them, but at the sky above instead.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>Fatigue took place, but he still couldn't bring himself to close his eyes. The moment Rodrigue left was the time he finally decided to leave the tower. He was walking aimlessly once more and this time he was sent to the floor above the Reception Hall. It’s eerily dark, but he could manage. The tales of spirits and demons were kept at the back of his mind, but he never really gave it any thought since there were worse things than believing what couldn’t be proven. If it were in the case of Ashe and Lysithea, they would have already collapsed from fear.</p><p>But he could feel his fear set in somehow, he was nearing the door he never brought himself to open since the day he ran away. During the cleanup, the room was strictly prohibited to anyone but him, Seteth made sure that Byleth was the only one who had access to it, and he couldn’t be grateful enough for that.</p><p>His chest felt heavy and his skin turned cold, the footsteps seemed to drag itself across the floor but he fought it. It is but a small promise to himself.</p><p>A promise that he would be braver this time.</p><p>He turns the knob to the Captain’s Quarters. Of course there’s no expecting anything since the place was abandoned for nearly half a decade, all of Jeralt’s belongings were probably loot for thieves that swarmed the place. He can’t bring himself to wish that he should’ve done something, because there’s no changing what’s been done. Byleth wishes though, he wished that there would be something left but he knows that he shouldn’t supply himself with false hope.</p><p>He’s bound to get disappointed. He’s bound to regret everything, yet…</p><p>It’s all the same.</p><p>The appearance shaded by the absence of light, the feeling of the floor beneath the balls of his feet. Most especially the scent, it could be his ability similar to Seteth’s but it’s a faint aroma masked by the musky scent of a room that’s been locked away for years. It’s untouched and unblemished, distinct to as it was before.</p><p>There was no rush in his walk, it’s as though he were creeping in on a sleeping soul he dared not to wake. In it’s darkness, he can still make out the silhouettes of some certain objects, the armor stand by the desk, the bottles that had harvested dust along the bookshelf, and the frayed notebook that he had left behind for the fear of what other things he might find inside. He realizes that he’s never gone past the pages about his mother, he read them over and over again that time, the utopian thought that familiarizing himself with her could possibly bring her back. He was afraid to read the rest of the pages because it held words Jeralt could never bring himself to say to anyone. If Byleth were to find something of regret in Jeralt’s writing, he wouldn’t know how erase the etched words in his mind.</p><p>The thought of Jeralt regretting Byleth’s existence made him sick in the stomach, but he swore to himself that he would have the courage to face it. Byleth takes the notebook and holds it close to his chest when a glint is caught in his peripherals. He catches it by the bookshelf, a small pouch with gaps large enough to make it transparent, squeezed in between hard-bound books. Without further hesitation, he takes it back to his quarters along with the notebook.</p><p>Sitting by the desk of his room seemed like a short while even when he had been sitting for the past hour. He examined the ring in his hand, the only tangible memory he had of his mother that gave her life up for him. Jeralt could have kept it instead of handing it down to a disappointment, but there’s nothing else Byleth could do except to claim it as his and hand it over to someone one day.</p><p>He ponders over the thought of that one day. It was beyond reach, it was beyond the point of his boundaries. He leaves the ring in the pouch and stows it in the cabinet beneath his clothes. There’s no telling whether that one day would come, but he settles on it being somewhat pleasing if there was someone out there.</p><p>The skin of his thumb runs through the edges of the pages, not flipping the notebook just yet, but some of the inked words could be seen in between the quick run through. After he had summoned all of his courage, he flips it open to a random page. </p><p>Written in a narrow manner, the words were written on a Verdant Moon day, year unknown. It was the end of spring and the temperature fell as the breeze began to blow the leaves off their branches. Jeralt described Byleth as quiet on the day of fall, shut closed like a flower that left spring. It was normal and peculiar at the same time. The little emotions he had were all somehow sucked out of him on that very day.</p><p>He said he was lifeless for the most part, every hour that passed since that day was another part of himself slipping away. His grip on humanity loosened as Jeralt assumed that Byleth’s memories turned hazy, Jeralt wrote that there were days he forgot his own name and even the very fact that he was his father. There was nothing he held onto until Sothis came into his life, it was perhaps a rebirth or a beginning. And ever since they came to the monastery, Jeralt sensed it without being told.</p><p>But straight to the point, Jeralt mentioned a mercenary on the day where everything changed, a close friend of his, migrating to Nuvelle to start a new life. It doesn’t ring a bell, but Jeralt had written down that things were never the same after that. There were no longer words about the strange man, it disappears like he’s been trying to avoid it. There’s an unsettling sense of suspicion and uneasiness in his words.</p><p>Byleth attempts to recall, digging into the deepest parts of his memory before he quickly halts. There was something about looking into the past that made everything strange, it was taboo, it was a Pandora’s box that he didn’t know he had. </p><p>
  <em> Day 17 of the Blue Sea Moon, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cloudy spring day. I can’t help but wonder if the past was coming back to haunt him. We had a strange conversation about his students over a Hresvelg blend. It’s tad bitter, but it’s probably just the taste in my mouth when I realized he looked at that little prince the same way he did with that man. </em>
</p><p>It’s puzzling, dubitable he might add. Jeralt was probably keen enough to know what he felt for Dimitri, but saying that there was someone else was downright disturbing. Because he never fails to dream of a stranger. </p><p>They come, but they come as a dream; it’s there for a few seconds before getting whisked away by reality. He tries not to think of it and moves on anyway.</p><p>There were passages about Edelgard. He talks about how Byleth’s breaks never seemed to overlap with his on some days, Jeralt would always turn to Edelgard when he had no one else to talk to. They coincidentally bumped into each other in the training hall, the meeting leading up to a duel on the very same day they met. Jeralt was always abrupt, it was no different in those times he’d challenge Byleth for sparring.</p><p>He apparently lost that duel since he was quite poor at wielding an axe, though everything picked up from there and they were just like another student and teacher getting along in the monastery.</p><p>
  <em> Makes me wonder why he didn’t choose the Black Eagles. The name’s more striking to be honest. </em>
</p><p>Byleth stifles a laugh.</p><p>One page after the other was like getting to know himself. There were things Jeralt didn’t know, but what he wrote seemed to make up Byleth’s entire past; about the glutton he was, his skills using the sword, his bland reactions to jokes that were funny to others, his habit of staring too much at something that caught his interest. Not every passage was a long one, but he wrote about him every single day. Even on the days Jeralt was out on a mission, he constantly had him in his mind.</p><p>It was getting more difficult to read, but he goes on. There was the sensation of rekindling those moments, there was longing of the past years. Every word was a piece of his father he dared never to let go. </p><p>The words on his last day were still about him. Jeralt admits that it was shallow of him to be ardent upon the fact that he was going to work with his son, but there’s no denying that he was excited for the day they’d take on a mission side by side like before.</p><p><em> Those kids are lucky to have him as a teacher </em> , he wrote, <em> words can’t express how proud I am, but I’m sure she’s proud of him more than I could ever be. </em></p><p>That was all he needed.</p><p>That was all he needed for him to crane his head towards the ceiling to fight the sensation creeping up his nose. </p><p>It was all so… so lonely.</p><p>His emptiness was filled with the phantom of his longing. He will never stop wanting to go back in time, he will never stop wishing for the day he would see them again. Byleth keeps these memories close, but he keeps the present closer. It was a gift he was given by his mother. The gift to change and feel in the present, the gift to breathe and the gift to live. Perhaps instead of regretting in their place, he should just accept it and move forward. </p><p>The next pages were blank until it was nearing the last. There was a drop on one page, it grew bigger as he flipped through and saw another page filled with words. </p><p>It began from the back, still written by his own father but they were no longer marked by the days that had gone by. They were words arranged in a certain manner, some of them completely crossed or inked out. It’s clear that they were meant to replace each other because there were times where even Jeralt couldn’t find the right words, his indecisiveness was depicted through the pages with seeping ink blots.</p><p>It was a poem— perhaps it was a song. Seteth would write short novels and poems, but none of them were arranged as what Byleth saw before him. </p><p>
  <em> There was once a little bluebell,</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Born on the night of fall, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> As calm as a meadow breeze,</em>
</p><p>
  <em> And silent upon every call, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It blooms in the autumns,</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Closes at every spring, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Do not pluck its petals,</em>
</p><p>
  <em> For you’ll see what it will bring, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The the sky to the ground,</em>
</p><p>
  <em> The future in your hands, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> A pillow of grass, a blanket of wheat,</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Gifts greater than vast lands, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But remember to listen,</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Listen to the silence in the air, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Look far into the open field and seek the answers,  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> For they will be waiting for you there.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>He hears him for a split moment, they aren’t on monastery grounds, but somewhere far, far away. With no memory of the past, everything was vague about being a child again. Carried on Jeralt’s shoulders, walking through a field that held the aroma that lulled him to sleep. </p><p>Let it go, Sothis told him once, and he does. It’s perhaps another part of the fragment she had given him and he tries his best to rekindle the memory in the moment. He’s humming beneath him, it’s a simple melody he could carry, perhaps something that could make him sound good with the low octave of his voice. He never heard him sing, or perhaps he couldn’t remember. </p><p>The sky was orange and the ground was green, up ahead was the sea of blue. Except it wasn’t the sea, but the vast hills of blue that mimicked it. They were in full bloom as the wind carried its scent and pollen grains, it was a sight to behold, but then he recalls.</p><p>They were bluebells.</p><p>There was a bittersweet sensation to it, the name that calmed him as the other led him straight to the depths of hell. It’s difficult to decipher what it was, but the dark fragments were sinking him in the inevitable depths of his past. The colors scramble to a distasteful hue and the surroundings morph, he’s being led into another place that he didn’t want to be in.</p><p><em>Not now</em>, he thinks. <em>Not now</em>. If he could be somewhere else than his nightmare, he would take it. Byleth would have to apologize to Sothis for halting the past, but he chose to alleviate his own burden, to run away for once just to channel the peace as calm as his breathing was supposed to be.</p><p>He embraces himself and clings onto the song. There was nothing but a distorted melody of sorts, but he thinks of one on his own. He taps his foot against the ground and hums to himself, the random notes follow the beat, and once it becomes lullaby pleasing to the ears, he makes himself remember.</p><p>Slowly, he’s pulled away from the darkness. He’s singing the song even when he can’t carry a proper tune back in the days where he sang in the cathedral. He wonders what Jeralt thought when he made the song; it could be about him, about name, about a legend, or about something ordinary— Byleth would never know. Still, he hummed to the tune he’s made, carrying his father’s words through the music.</p><p>“It has some lyrics to it, right?”</p><p>He was fortuitously humming it while he was assigned to do an inventory of the equipment in the training grounds. Some of the orphans from half a decade ago decided to return around the same day Rodrigue’s troops arrived, one of which was the child with hazel locks from five years ago. </p><p>Since he was already fifteen, he could sense his own capability to join in battle, but Byleth gave him the responsibility to watch over the other orphans since it was too dangerous. After a bit of arguments, the boy conceded.</p><p>“Yes,” Byleth answered, flicking a tick onto the parchment when he saw that the training lances were still in good condition. </p><p>“Why don’t you sing it then?” The boy asked.</p><p>“I don’t sing.”</p><p>“Humming is considered singing, isn’t it?”</p><p>“No,” Byleth paused to reconsider, “I don’t think so.”</p><p>“Can you sing the lyrics for me?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Why not? I want to know.” Byleth couldn’t help but fight the smile creeping on his lips. The boy really hasn’t lost his feistiness over the past five years.</p><p>“No,” Byleth refuses again.</p><p>“I heard you singing it to the other children. How come you sing it to them and not me?”</p><p>“But you aren’t a child anymore, are you not?”</p><p>The boy frowns.</p><p>“I’m just teasing,” Byleth smiles. “I’ll teach you later so you’ll be singing it for them, alright?”</p><p>It’s a good thing he made it something simple since his voice could manage it. Even when he goes to the orphans’ quarters at night to lull them to sleep, he still finds himself constantly wondering about the meaning. </p><p>“It’s about a flower, right Professor?”</p><p>There’s no telling if it was only about a flower, but he nods anyway. He tucks them in and lets the lullaby fall from his lips. The sound of their breathing fills the air when he begins to write on a notebook, starting from its last page. There isn’t any particular subject to it, but his quill keeps itself moving anyway.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>House Gloucester was the head of the Imperial faction in Alliance territory as House Reigan was against them. It was a chance to ask help from Claude since their enemies were the same, Byleth raises the possibility that they could be allies. Dimitri doesn’t speak anything against it, though his expression was difficult to read.</p><p>They settle on seeking aid from the Alliance as they conquer the Bridge of Myrddin.The plan was still to raid Enbarr and finally take Edelgard down since they were Dimitri’s orders, not that Byleth agreed with it, but seeing the amount of troops and supplies Rodrigue had brought in gave him hope that they would prevail. The weaponry, the soldiers, the food (and the whiskey); they were all blessings that came from the heavens and Byleth couldn’t be anymore grateful even if he had to receive the reports of the numbers and segregate them himself.</p><p>Concerns that were raised were that of both the Alliance and Enbarr attacking at the same time since they were passing the bridge that had a big possibility of the three factions clashing by coincidence, but Dimitri says that it was a gamble he was willing to take just to get to Enbarr. Reckless idea, but they actually had enough elite soldiers to handle that. Byleth keeps his mouth shut about opposing the plan.</p><p>“But isn’t Lorenz part of House Gloucester?” Mercedes asked.</p><p>“There’s a possibility that we’ll cross paths… I don’t think that’s something I’d like to do,” Ashe squirms at the thought.</p><p>“I will not tolerate hesitation,” Dimitri crosses his arms over his chest. “An enemy with a familiar face makes no difference. Kill them with your eyes closed if you must.”</p><p>And again, Byleth stops himself from speaking only because Seteth shot him a look during that meeting. It wasn't worth arguing over and he had other things to worry about, so he let it be for now. </p><p>Preparations were more difficult this time since their troops have increased by such a great number. He assigned battalions leaders and ordered them to count their troops, they list down every soldier, every soul that was willing to surrender their lives in the hope of salvation. Byleth handles the lists afterwards, organizing through the units and analyzing as he thinks of the numbers he should deploy or keep in the monastery.</p><p>His duty went on as always, but the city preaching had to halt a few days before the march. There wasn’t much that bothered him considering the tasks that were constantly thrown at him, but he can’t seem to shake the feeling of his guilt every time Gilbert was around. The event of that day suddenly overcomes him at the most random moments, it sends him to somehow crouch and regret his own actions. The Divine Pulse was not an option, so he gathered himself and approached the knight one afternoon during their march.</p><p>It was more difficult than expected. Byleth struggled to get the words out of his mouth when he decided to apologize to Gilbert before the battle; it was a hectic time to be apologizing over something that happened weeks ago. Byleth knew that Gilbert would be too busy or frustrated to even talk to him, but much to his surprise, Gilbert does listen to him, and it makes his guilt worsen. </p><p>Gilbert apologizes back, saying that he spoke true about how a fool he was. It doesn’t please him though, Byleth couldn’t help but feel so ashamed just recalling what he said that day; he was ashamed but time was limited, he needed to convey his sentiments properly because there was no other chance.</p><p>“I know it was really immature of me to bring up the tragedy...  I went too far there,” Byleth admits.</p><p>Gilbert shakes his head and sighs, “I’m afraid it was all fact you were saying. Guilt drives a knight like me to be selfish, I can’t deny that I don’t deserve to serve His Highness.”</p><p>“That’s not true. You’ve done your duty to protect him and the Kingdom, that alone already proves that you are worth your title.” Byleth’s eyes train to the ground, “I know that I haven’t earned the title of being a proper leader... or the goddess, but I’ll make sure to be worthy of those titles someday.”</p><p>Without saying anything else, Gilbert gives him a small smile. It’s as though the burden had eased a bit, but the thought of the upcoming battle still had its pressure in place. Of course he knew it wouldn’t be possible for the battle to be orchestrated entirely by his plans, most especially when Dimitri was around. There were more troops this time, more people at his disposal and more people he could use as units in a game of chess, but that also meant lives he was responsible for, lives who had people waiting for them back at their own homes.</p><p>The pressure seemed to build up even as the battle commenced.</p><p>His strategies remained untampered, everyone went to their assigned places and took down the Imperial reinforcements with ease. It went smoother than expected, and perhaps it was because of Rodrigue’s help. Another factor he considered was Dimitri’s compliance, which he didn’t really count on since it was an unimaginable thought.</p><p>Something that greatly bothered him were the masked mages in the Imperial soldiers guarding the contraption inside the bridge. He knows that he isn’t hallucinating this time, when he dodges their attacks, he catches a glimpse of their pale skin under their sleeves. There was a battalion of them, some of his soldiers were killed from their strange magic. A part of his cheek gets caught in the heat of the orbs they hurled at him, it singes a part of his hair and he gets cornered trying to get a hold of his shifting. Before he could even push the mage back or ask for backup, the mask of the mage falls off and there's something wet lapped against his burn.</p><p>Byleth doesn’t do anything but <em> stiffens </em>. </p><p>Their tongue swirls across their lips. He properly sees the mage’s white skin, the dark, wrinkled bags under their eyes, and a crooked smile that showed off rotten teeth. And a second after that, the mage vanishes into thin air, leaving dark lavender sparks behind before they fizz away.</p><p>One of his battalion members witnesses what had transpired, they gawk at each other but it’s not long before he’s bitten in half by the demonic beast. Byleth summons the Divine Pulse to save him, but it doesn’t go far enough to change the way he’s killed, his focus and breathing was wavering, he could only breathe enough to form bone extensions stemming from the posterior part of his skull to summon the lighting that crashing onto the enemies. The horns were the only ones working when it felt as though his power was sucked out of him. There were more people he couldn’t save this time and the thought of that strange occurrence bothered him greatly. It could have been some crazed Imperial soldier, but there’s something that struck him odd, like there was something else within the Empire’s troops that was far from anything normal.</p><p>A signal goes out, signifying that the commander had been taken down. With a fraction of his battalion and other students who had gone with him through the bridge passageway, they reunited with the others on the opposite side from where they entered. He was never known for his keen eyesight, but Byleth knew something was peculiar from a distance. It was an unfamiliar battalion that seemed to have fought the same enemy. </p><p>Their leader stood tall, an archly height that no one in Garreg Mach ever had. Dimitri spoke, his face no longer contorted in frustration. His expression was… softened— a sight Byleth hadn’t seen in years.</p><p>Seeing them made him overwhelmed, it made everything so sickeningly nostalgic all of a sudden. </p><p>“Dedue?”</p><p>He couldn’t tell who asked, yet it was something that they all had in mind by the moment they noticed. It was overwhelming— too overwhelming that Byleth could just collapse from pure bliss and relief. He could almost forget about the battle and call for a celebration. To see that all of his students made it through the five years of war, it made him weak with solace. He walks close enough to hear the conversation the prince and his vassal were having.</p><p>“Never… never throw your life away again, Dedue,” Dimitri orders.</p><p>“Understood, Your Highness,” Dedue bows. </p><p>To think those words would come from Dimitri’s mouth at some point strikes it odd. Perhaps if it were the Dimitri years ago, it would’ve been more pleasing to hear. That day was simply full of oddities that he can’t seem to register.</p><p>Hollers and cheers erupt for his return. Byleth decides to take a step back, watching as the rest of his former students surround Dedue, greeting him, welcoming him, thanking the heavens for bringing him back. Some soldiers tell Byleth that he granted this miracle, he neither agrees or disagrees but gives them a small smile as a response. Everyone’s filled with joy despite the casualties, but he’d rather have them focus on the positive aspects of their battle that day.</p><p>Byleth watched from the sidelines as a grunt heard right beside him, Dimitri stood with his arms akimbo, sharing the same sight Byleth had. They stood side by side, near the walls of the bridge as they watched everyone else.</p><p>“Is something the matter?” Byleth asks, not looking directly at Dimitri. </p><p>He knew he would at most get ignorance or a sigh of frustration in response, but he asked anyway. Byleth couldn’t really bring himself to care about getting beaten up again at this point since he was already anticipating it.</p><p>“When I killed that general, she didn’t even falter. She closed her eyes, willingly giving up her life for that damned woman. It was so... so...“ he trailed off, not bothering to finish the rest of his sentence.</p><p>“Does that bother you?”</p><p>“I don’t know.” It comes faintly and quite mumbled, but Byleth could hear it loud and clear. Hearing his voice without him shouting or growling at him, it felt so... foreign. Byleth finally looks at him and Dimitri’s eyes are trained on the ground, he’s lost in the myriad of his own thoughts, probably debating with the ghosts in his head about who knows what. “I don’t... know,” he repeats. </p><p>“You regret killing them, don’t you?” The question comes as a natural slip of his tongue. If there was still a chance to convince him to change course, it would be any opportunity Byleth could seize. He believed that this was one of those rare moments.</p><p>Dimitri scoffs bitterly, “There you go again with your nonsense.”</p><p>“You already know this isn’t the right way. This plan for revenge won’t get you anywhere.”</p><p>“Have you come here to give me another lecture of how delusional I am?”</p><p>“Just think about it for a second and reassess what exactly these people are fighting for. Now that Dedue has returned and chose to fight for our cause, think about it if it’s worth giving his life up for.”</p><p>“Spare me the blathering before I cut your throat open.”</p><p>Byleth actually sighs loudly this time before facing Dimitri’s direction, “I know that you don’t want to do this. You know yourself that you don’t. You are sacrificing <em> us </em> and <em> yourself </em> for this, yet you know very well that it isn’t worth it.”</p><p>“Shut your mouth.”</p><p>“<em> ‘Never throw your life’ </em>?” Byleth’s tone was slathered in unintentional mockery, “Isn’t that exactly what your plan was before all this? Weren’t you just going to throw your life away and head to Enbarr recklessly if we hadn’t reunited?”</p><p>“I said shut up!”</p><p>“Then why would you say that? Why would you say those words to Dedue if your were planning to waste his life all along?”</p><p>He anticipates it this time. By the time the swing of the Areadbhar manipulated the atmosphere, he let his coat fall, the inhale was stuck in his throat when he lunged back, he then released the air with his wings spreading behind him. It’s not exactly the right part to use, but it was manageable to dodge the quick thrusts of the lance. He brings himself a couple of feet into the air before crashing down with his weight sideways, he barrels down and the rotations catch Dimitri off guard, Byleth swipes a wing behind the prince and he’s swept off his feet before he could even blink. Choruses of gasps filled the air, but Byleth could just glower at him with his foot over Dimitri’s chest as the prince stared straight up at the darkening sky. His nonchalant expression manages to get on his nerves.</p><p>“You cannot deny it.”</p><p>Of course he receives no response. Dimitri continues to look at the sky, his grip loosening with Areadbhar in hand.</p><p>“That’s quite enough, Professor,” Rordigue walks towards them slowly. No one else interferes because it was Byleth and Dimitri’s dispute. To think it had gone far enough to lay a hand on each other, it was more fearsome than it was before.</p><p>Byleth concedes as he takes his foot off and turns away. It’s as if he ever wanted to fight in the first place. There were other things to think about, such as the clean up, their next course of action and—</p><p>The air moves behind him and it sends his feet off the ground. He looks back and he sees the blade of Dimitri’s relic punctured into the stone just inches away from the end of his wing. When he sees it, he feels it. The blade had somehow nicked— cut through the thin muscle, the sizzling was faint but audible in his ears. It hurt as much as what dark magic did, yet he couldn’t phantom his confusion as to why the wings were suddenly susceptible to blades when it never was. The people gaping their mouths around him brought him back to the situation at hand and somehow it just worsened everything.</p><p>There was that beautiful display of their leadership again, it’s quite a sight to see them like that, especially for the new troops, men of Duscur, who were starting to have second thoughts about joining their army. Dimitri was ushered away by Gilbert and Rodrigue, while Seteth gave Byleth an earful of scolding. He retracted his wings and the scar landed just right above his scapula, bleeding with burnt ends on the epidermis. Seteth clicks his tongue.</p><p>“You are not immune to all weapons, especially not against the relics,” he says. “It can cut through your shifting like paper.”</p><p>Flayn has her hands glow over his back to stop the bleeding before he’s sent on the bridge again to make final checks and have the battalion leaders list down every fallen soldier in their troops. Dimitri was nowhere to be found, and perhaps it was better that way since Byleth was busy after all. While the rest were healing themselves in the camp, he did the rounds around the bridge along with Rodrigue, thinking of who and how many troops he should assign to Myrddin.</p><p>The bridge beyond the contraption was a sorry sight. There were soldiers sprawled on the ground, and once he caught the faint sight of purple locks on the ground, he became sick to the stomach. Festivities seemed like a foreign thought with everything that occurred after that argument with Dimitri, but Byleth thinks that he's quite grateful to be pulled back into reality since it helped him in terms of productivity. He moves the bodies to the wagons, he doesn’t take a second look when it’s pulled away. </p><p>Passing the village once more, Byleth hears Rodrigue in the middle of an argument. One of their soldiers was having a conversation with a young girl who was clearly not a soldier in their ranks. The closer he was, he realized that the girl was begging.</p><p>“Please let me join the army,” she pleads, “I have nowhere else to turn.”</p><p>“A child like you has no use in the front lines,” Rodrigue tells her. “Return home before your parents worry.”</p><p>“But I don’t have any parents. And my only brother was killed in a battle just recently. I don’t have a home anymore, so I beg of you, please let me join the army. I won’t be a burden, I promise.”</p><p>Rodrigue runs a hand through his hair. “How persistent,” he mutters under his breath.</p><p>“What’s going on?” Byleth asks.</p><p>“Ah, Professor,” Rodrigue turns to him. “This young lady requests to fight by our side. I believe she comes from the nearby village but claims to have nowhere else to turn.”</p><p>“Please! I’ll help in any way I can,” she begs Byleth, tears springing at the corners of her eyes.</p><p>He takes a moment, but he takes her in despite Rodrigue’s confusion. It’s not the first time he’s done this, he chose not to make it the first time refusing to take an orphan in. There were enough people to take care of her in the monastery, yet something seemed off about his deed. Instead of that satisfying feeling of saving a soul, there was something else entirely that he couldn’t seem to describe. When they return camp to march back to the monastery, Dimitri scoffs at the sight of the little girl, who noticeably jolted at the sight of the prince.</p><p>“Worry not, he won't hurt you,” Byleth assures her, intentionally loud enough for Dimitri to hear. It’s not a warning of some sort, perhaps a bit of his immaturity stepping in.</p><p>He asked Marianne to escort the young girl to the horses when Dimitri pushed past him, shoving Byleth back by the shoulder, mumbling the words only they could hear among themselves. “Flooding our base with orphans doesn't make you more of a goddess.”</p><p>He keeps himself from saying anything back, not that he could when Dimitri was already on his way to his own horse. Everything about him was downright irritating, but there were other things swirling in his head; the peculiar enemies who were able to retreat in the battle field and the very fact that he had slain a former student of the monastery. The depravity of his own actions doesn’t seem to dawn on him once they return to the monastery. He heads straight for the quarters and collapses on the bed with those thoughts in mind, and even if he were lying prone on the mattress, he couldn’t get in a wink of sleep.</p><p>There was no going out the next day, not when there were scheduled meetings the entire week. Not wanting to work alongside not being able to sleep sends him walking around on a cold morning. He tries not to let his own thoughts get the best of him, yet he can’t help but wonder if he was paving the right path himself if he had the audacity to even scold Dimitri for it. </p><p>Someone was in the greenhouse, the smell of the earth was stronger, meaning that that gardener had decided to water the flowers earlier that day. She was a volunteer like the rest of the kitchen staff, she brought the greenhouse back to life and even when Byleth couldn’t spare her anything but words of hope for the war’s end.</p><p>When he enters the greenhouse, he isn’t greeted by the lady’s chipper voice but a silent nod by Dedue, holding a watering can in hand. It would’ve been a natural response to appear shocked, yet it’s the creeping nostalgia that he senses instead. Without a word, he stands by his side as they watch the water fall onto the flowers and trickle down their leaves. It was just like before. A calm quiet that he described as a log peacefully rolling across the creek.</p><p>“Did you want something?” Dedue asks. It puzzles him when his former teacher lets out a soft laugh before having a smile lingering on his lips.</p><p>How nostalgic, Byleth thought. It’s absurd how similar things were to five years ago. “Nothing in particular,” Byleth answers.</p><p>The conversation doesn’t die there though, unlike before when they would say a thing or two and let silence fill the rest of it. Dedue thanks him for letting him join them once more along with the rest of the Duscur soldiers who have taken the rest of the empty quarters in the monastery. He tells Byleth a brief overview of how they ended up in the Bridge of Myrddin and how the goddess’s influence had spread far enough for them to know it was Byleth and Dimitri himself who were leading the Kingdom Army. </p><p>Dedue was imprisoned along with Dimitri five years ago for attempting to save him. They planned an escape that ended up backfiring when Kingdom soldiers were notified of the empty cells, they managed to run far into the village, but there was no use of the escape if no one was to hold the soldiers back. It was an obligation, he said, a duty he knew he had to fulfill for the prince and so he sacrificed himself. It’s no doubt that Dedue was another soul listed as a voice in Dimitri’s head, but it’s also no doubt that Dimitri was delusional.</p><p>Guilt-ridden and hungry for revenge. There’s no other explanation for it, neither was there an actual solution. Byleth admits that he was once like that, yet how did he have the strength to conquer the revenge that corroded his entire being? If he were to tell Dimitri to forgive and forget, it was bound to be another punch in the face.</p><p>The man also offers his gratitude for taking responsibility for His Highness. It’s odd because it’s clear that he witnessed their fight yesterday, Dedue ought to have questioned him for such actions but he doesn't say anything else.</p><p>“I watch over him from time to time, we don’t get along well though,” Byleth admits.</p><p>“I apologize for my hesitation yesterday, but in all honesty,” Dedue shakes his head, “I did not know what action was wise in such a situation.”</p><p>“It happens more than you think,” Byleth shrugs. “No one knows what to do every time we argue. Whenever it happens, it just... happens.”</p><p>“I see.” Dedue pauses for a moment, lost in his own thoughts. The water was spilling from the can’s spout so Byleth takes it from his hand before it floods the soil. “Do you have any idea as to why you both do not get along?”</p><p>Oh, he wouldn’t know where to start with those ideas. He settles on the simpler, more obvious reason to their arguments, “Our ideas simply clash a lot.”</p><p>“To the point you would raise your fists at each other?”</p><p>“Perhaps. His next course of action is to head to Enbarr for the sake of revenge, whereas I want to claim the Kingdom to gain more troops and ensure our victory. It must come as a disappointment to you, but I’m actually more short-tempered than you think.” He digresses, “I think he would listen to you if you were to bring up the suggestion to him. He’s heard it from me many times, but he’ll probably concede if it’s you.”</p><p>Dedue sighs. It wasn’t particularly peculiar for anyone to sigh, but Dedue sighing was another phenomenon he couldn’t quite describe. “He only listens to you, Professor.”</p><p><em> And his delusions </em>, Byleth added in his head. “Now he doesn’t,” Byleth deadpans. “I want to help him find his peace of mind, you know, put him on the right path again.”</p><p>Byleth catches the sight of a withering flower in the midst of the ones in full bloom. Dedue notices quickly and pulls its dry roots from the soil. Lifeless, it’s crusty brown petals fall to the ground before it’s thrown away. Byleth wondered why he was thinking of something else entirely.</p><p>“I think His Highness is just… lost,” says Dedue. “I think he has been since the day we met.”</p><p>Dedue was sharp, yet it’s only natural for him to notice since he’s been by Dimitri’s side for the longest time. “So you know that his words yesterday were…”</p><p>“Contrived in a way, but I know those words were sincere,” Dedue nods. “Allow me to digress for a moment. Though I do not regret giving up my life for His Highness, I know I should have thought of myself more, perhaps lived for myself a bit more. Only when I was on the brink of death did I realize that. I am fortunate to have lived because I am given the chance to start all over again. I believe His Highness has little value for his own life, but saying those words signify that he has not completely disregarded the fact that there are more reasons to live other than seeking revenge.”</p><p>Perhaps, Dimitri had gone beyond the point of return. There might be no other way to bring him back to how he was and there will never be going back because that’s the way things are. These are things Dimitri would fail to see for himself, Byleth would have to remind him that this war isn’t an opportunity to bask in his guilt and take revenge, but it was a period of freedom, a period of unity and hope. He needed to talk to him properly and tell him that this isn’t the way to live because he could do so much more without anything else holding him back.</p><p>After that day of speaking to Dedue, hope inevitably sparked in his chest— the hope that he could finally bring Dimitri to his senses.</p><p>It sparks. It brightens.</p><p>Then it goes out again.</p><p>Sooner than ever, they receive a report that the Imperial army gathered their troops in Fort Merceus in response to their victory in Myrddin. It was reported that their troops doubled theirs and were led by the emperor herself; just when Byleth thought their troops were of great number, a picture of the amount of Imperial soldiers resurfaced at that moment. He was reminded of how small they actually were.</p><p>The Alliance was also part of the conversation in terms of their process of gathering troops and lords to invade Empire territory. The plan to Enbarr wouldn’t come easy if there were three military forces clashing in the same place. That place being Gronder Field, a place harboring memories he held so close. Of course, there was no other intelligent strategy when they were outnumbered like that, the Alliance could be their only hope to prevail. While they discussed over allies, Dimitri was silent with a menacing grin lingering on his lips. Byelth tried to pay no mind as he listened to Catherine speaking about troops from House Charon and Gilbert informing them about the uncertainty with the Alliance since their messenger hasn’t returned.</p><p>Regardless of whether the Empire, the Kingdom, or the Alliance had forged any pact, it was inevitable that they would come across old acquaintances from the monastery, perhaps even their old friends. It was a nightmare he’s envisioned coming to life. He forgets all the past uncertainties and replaces them with new ones.</p><p>The battalion leaders seemed uneasy about having to battle against them, especially former students from the other two classes joining the Kingdom Army. There was nothing else he could do except sympathize. He never wanted it, he never wanted to take the lives of familiar faces. In the past, they all shared a feast, stories, and laughter on that very day. They shared struggles, perhaps blood and tears to come along with it. Yet… their unfortunate future let them share such a twisted fate that severed their ties to have each other’s blood on their hands.</p><p>Everyone was uneasy, yet there was Dimitri, saying that it didn’t matter if they were friends or not. What mattered to him was that Edelgard was leading the Imperial troops, and it’s clear that her blood would be on his hands sooner than ever. He wouldn’t dither from having it any other way.</p><p>“Would you not hesitate to kill your own friends, Your Highness?” Gilbert asks with worry in his tone.</p><p>“It matters not,” Dimitri says. “Friend or foe from the past, if they stand with her on the battlefield, they will all die by my hand.”</p><p>Byleth couldn’t help his urge to speak up because he knew how wrong and how <em> foolish </em> his ideals were. His hope was but a fluctuating matter when it came to Dimitri. Bylet would admit that he should keep his resilience because the prince had gone through many things himself, yet again it was those moments where he couldn’t bring himself to understand or at least pity him. </p><p>Dimitri was just… frustrating.</p><p>“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Byleth says. </p><p>“Did I hear you wrong?” Dimitri glowers at Byleth.</p><p>“I <em> said </em> that isn’t necessary. There’s always another way to go about this—“</p><p>“Are you suggesting we go up to the Emperor and try to talk her out of this?” Sylvain cuts. “Oh? But why haven’t we? Because we’re going to get <em> killed </em>, that’s why.”</p><p>Felix elbows him in the abdomen. It isn’t the first time Sylvain disagreed with Byleth, it’s obvious that he was also getting tired of his overbearing sympathy, going the roundabout way of forgiving the enemy and taking people in without hesitation— it was irritating for them especially if they thought it was all for the image he was trying so hard to put up. It’s a fact that it played a part in his image, but it was more of his habit to keep sympathizing, making him unable to refuse anything.</p><p>“You didn’t let me finish,” Byleth snaps and Sylvain sinks into his seat, hand on the spot where he was hit. “I’m simply opposing the notion that we treat these people as though you never knew each other. You were all once friends in this monastery; you all studied together, fought together, and celebrated victories together. Those memories will haunt you by the time their blood is on your hands.”</p><p>Sylvain was fighting the urge to roll his eyes, but he keeps them on the ceiling when he gives a long exhale. No one notices since they were all contemplating their own thoughts about the next battle, Byleth was just grateful they pondered over one of his little speeches, he felt a sense of pride that he was getting better at speaking.</p><p>“What are you suggesting we do then?” Lysithea asks.</p><p>“If you can persuade them to join our cause, then do it. If you can’t, then it can’t be helped.”</p><p>Almost everyone in the room holds the same sullen face, except for Dimitri who just scowls. “This is nonsense. Keep reminiscing of the past, and you’ll get killed daydreaming about it on the battlefield. Kill them all if they stand on the other side. Their significance from before no longer holds foundation if they even chose to fight against us in the first place.”</p><p>“I told you that’s not necessary,” Byleth repeats. “Not all of them chose to be on this path, and neither did we.”</p><p>Dimitri scoffs in response, “Five years ago, did you even consider the path our enemies walked on? Were you able to give your false sympathy with the enemies who killed Jeralt? Did you even think twice about the people you slaughtered that day? They could all be people who did not choose that certain path. They could be people with loved ones waiting for them back home.”</p><p>“Don’t bring that up now, Dimitri,” Byleth pleads exhaustedly.</p><p>“How is that so different? Is it because you are the goddess now? Is that why you must save everyone you see? Anyone who begs for help?”</p><p>“This isn’t important.”</p><p>“Isn’t <em> important? </em>” Dimitri mimics his tone. “This proves that you aren’t any different. Your sins won’t be erased no matter how many people who help. No matter what you do as the goddess or as a leader, your past will always be there to haunt you, reminding you that you are nothing but a fabulist and a blood-stained monster.”</p><p>“Your Highness. Please,” Gilbert attempts to speak.</p><p>“There’s no use trying to mask your impurities,” Dimitri continues. “Helping enemies will take you nowhere but to your own grave. Though I’m sure a quisling like you would lend a hand to that woman even if it meant leaving this army behind.”</p><p>“I would <em>never</em>,” Byleth hissed.</p><p>“Really? Come to think of it, wasn’t Jeralt a close friend of Edelgard?”</p><p>The expressions in the room seemed to alter. It’s not faith anymore, but doubt. People were being enlightened in such a way it went against him, yet he couldn’t bring himself to deny a word.</p><p>“Stop it. This isn’t necessary.”</p><p>“You know it yourself,” Dimitri grins. “Once you see her on the battlefield, you’ll hesitate even when the opportunity presents itself. I am curious though, would you hesitate for the sake of your good name as the goddess or for the sake of your father?”</p><p>“Just shut the fuck up, you <em> boar! </em>” Felix bursts out from his seat, but it seems to come deaf to everyone’s ears. Even Rodrigue’s warning isn’t registered by anyone.</p><p>“Perhaps it isn’t for the sake of your own ideals, but your father’s. <em> Oh </em> ,” his manic grin grows wider. “It’s all starting to make sense about your recklessness, you’re trying <em> so hard </em> to be like him— to be nice, to be selfless and all the things that you could never be. He was gallant, he was inspiring, he even made good friends with the enemy for heaven’s sake!”</p><p>“Stop dragging him into this,” Byleth says, fist balling up on the table.</p><p>“Ah. But look at where his ideals got him—“</p><p>“Don’t you <em> dare— </em>“</p><p>“he lies <em>dead</em> now because of them.”</p><p>There’s a simultaneous jolt in the room, a loud bang on the table sounds as though the wood had cracked beneath his palms. Seteth has a tight grip on his wrist, pinning it down so he would keep Byleth from moving any further. </p><p>“Pull yourself together,” Seteth says to him in a hushed voice. Byleth was standing from his own seat, scales running down his forearm all the way to his wrist. He was better than this, he knew it himself. He was better than throwing punches over words, he was better than engaging in these stupid, immature arguments, yet he finds himself losing control. Because it was about his father. And because he couldn’t find any discrepancy from the truth.</p><p>Dimitri looks— no, he <em> smirks </em> at him. He grins like he’s won a victory, like he’s awakened something of his own creation. It was disgusting. It was chafing. It made him want to knock him out right there. Instead, he yanks his arm from Seteth’s grip and storms out of the room. He walks, he jogs, then he sprints. </p><p>The corridor echoes his footsteps, making it clear that no one else followed behind.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>“How could I...” Byleth mumbles, his feet planted on the soil beneath his boots. He casts his eyes on Jeralt’s name engraved on the marble. </p><p>After cutting the meeting days ago, he couldn’t bring himself to talk for a longer period of time. He spent hours over scriptures, lists of soldiers, and battle formations, a bottle or two to go with it, but he tried to stop himself from such pleasure, afraid that something would go wrong again. Seteth tells him to take a break, after he informs him about what transpired after the moment he left. The estimated place of battle was still Gronder Field, nothing much had been altered since the meeting had to be stopped. One afternoon during the working hours, Seteth informs him of a body found slumped in front of the cathedral, but Byleth brushes it off, asking Seteth to be in charge of the matter instead. He was running out of time already, he couldn’t afford getting bothered.</p><p>Gilbert apologizes in Dimitri’s stead as always, telling Byleth that he didn’t mean it and the like. There’s no other way around it other than accepting the poor man’s apology, though Byleth couldn’t bring himself to totally oppose Dimitri’s words that time. Was Jeralt’s overbearing kindness the reason for his own death? Were his ideals too difficult for him to uphold? Was he really doing this for the sake of himself or the people in Fódlan? The answers were really nowhere to be found.</p><p>Perhaps they were questions that weren’t supposed to be thought of in the first place; it seemed as though these things were meant to be left unanswered because there was no other meaning to it than an unfortunate fate. Yet, he finds himself always wondering, always questioning every single thing no matter how trivial it was. Byleth’s mind wouldn’t cease to run, even when he was sitting on the spot near his parents.</p><p>If Jeralt were there, he’d simply laugh. He’d laugh because of the troubled look on Byleth’s face; for him, it was oddly amusing to see his son frown after seeing his nonchalant look for the longest time. He’d joke around, yet by the end of the day, he’d supply him with a solution out of nowhere. Jeralt would be more of a leader that Byleth could ever be, he could even be the goddess himself if he was granted the power. Jeralt’s capabilities were beyond reach; he was portentous, insistent, intrepid— an amalgamation of things he could never be. And it’s unfair how he was the one who’s life was taken away.</p><p>Jeralt didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve words like that even after he was gone. Byleth believed that fate was just cruel enough to take his life, but it could never be his fault. It couldn't be, and it never will be. He was the same man who told him to keep living on, and those words are etched onto his memory like scars engraved on skin. Jeralt lived. He lived with that cruel fate hanging over his head.</p><p>It was already nearing midnight as the moonlight shone over his hand laying on the marble. There was much to do, but he knew very well that he was running away again. Just when he thought he could heal, it was all coming back to him and he would retreat if it was too much for him. He wished he were like the sea, boundless and perhaps everlasting, stretching far enough to reach the vast lands with no hesitation. But the sea turns to a field of flowers instead, Byleth doesn’t think of it any longer. </p><p>He sighs, then faces back towards where the moon shone the most. Behind the cathedral, another tower peeks within the arcs and curves of the silhouettes. With nothing in response to his vague question, Byleth is drawn towards the same tower he unconsciously goes to almost every night.</p><p> </p><p>——</p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing here?”</p><p>It was deja vu with totally different circumstances; it was another sickening nostalgia he didn’t want to bother indulging in. Byleth was by the entrance of the Goddess Tower’s top floor, while Dimitri was there, enshrouded within the shadows, only the Areadbhar’s stone glowing bright crimson under the darkness. The prince was situated near the pillars of moss, his cape of royal blue facing Byleth he looked up at the moon. Byleth didn’t question why his instincts had brought him here, in this very night where Dimitri wouldn’t be in the cathedral or lurking somewhere else, but in the Goddess Tower out of all places in the monastery. He would’ve gone to his quarters or at least changed into his nightgown, but Byleth finds him here, clad in full armor and cape. Byleth was puzzled, he thought it silly and quite idiotic, but remained his composure as frustration still managed to tip the scales in that moment.</p><p>“I could ask you the same thing.”</p><p>If fate brought him here, then there must be something he was destined to do; there was something he must do since they were brought together on this certain night.</p><p>Byleth doesn’t run away. Not this time he shouldn’t.</p><p>“I came here because the moon was unusually bright tonight. Do you have a problem with me enjoying the full moon?” Dimitri asks.</p><p>“Not in particular. No,” Byleth says. The moon was integral. No other place in Garreg Mach could compete with the absolute view from the Goddess Tower. It was just like before.</p><p>“It’s a shame that those who have passed are unable to live and see such a magnificent view, don’t you think?”</p><p>“I believe that those who have passed could see a much better view,” Byleth answers, voice sharp with slight irritation.</p><p>He could almost hear the sneer on Dimitri’s lips, “They are privileged with such views yet their pleads are endless. Sights like these are useless if you lived in regret.” Byleth sees the Areadbhar shift in the darkness, “What are you doing here anyway? Are you going to do me a favor by killing me for my words? Save your wishes for later because you won’t be able to. I’m going to kill that bastard before your sword could even pierce through my flesh.”</p><p>“What I’m here for is none of your business and I believe that I would’ve told you for the nth time that I have no intention of killing you... though I won’t hide that you managed to hit a nerve,” Byelth admits. “You have no right to speak of him or his ideals that way.”</p><p>“With or without rights, it’s the truth, isn’t it?”</p><p>“You speak falsities.”</p><p>“And you speak with no logic in hand,” Dimitri shoots back. “It’s only natural for even the most generous person out there to seek vengeance for themselves. You will never know, but Jeralt must be screaming for her head for such betrayal as we speak.”</p><p>“He isn’t like you.”</p><p>“But you are.”</p><p>Byleth breathes out laugh off sarcasm “Oh, <em> please </em>. We weren’t even talking about—“</p><p>“We are the same,” Dimitri insists. “We are both have blood on our hands for the sake of this vengeance that they crave—“</p><p>“That isn’t true. He—“</p><p>“Jeralt is no exception. That woman’s head is the only—“</p><p>“Keep your mouth shut!”</p><p>Surprisingly enough, he does. The Areadbhar doesn’t move, meaning Dimitri was standing still on one spot, though he couldn't tell if he jolted from the sound of his voice. Byleth knew he couldn’t keep on staying this way forever, he knew he shouldn't keep feeding the fire of their arguments, they would get nowhere if they kept going on. If there was anything, he could attempt a different approach.</p><p>Byleth sighs, then attempts to speak with the mellow tone of his voice. “Once, I thought that vengeance was what he would’ve wanted, and it took me numerous errors to realize it. Your method of endless killing and piling up corpses would do nothing to satisfy the dead, because killing for those who are gone won’t change anything. They will remain beyond our reach no matter what we do. It’s only a matter of time before you lose grasp of humanity with that way of living, only then you will realize that you’re no different from the enemy.“</p><p>“Perhaps I am no different from the enemy, but there is only so much I can do without committing acts that seem similar to theirs. It’s what I need to take her head. Should I give up humanity or become a savage in everyone’s eyes, it is worth silencing their pleas.”</p><p>“You’re wrong.” Byleth shakes his head. “You already know that this isn’t the right path. You know that you don’t want this yourself.”</p><p>The Areadbhar moves. “And who told you I wanted this? Who told you that I wanted to bask in the satisfaction of getting my hands stained in the enemy’s blood? This was the only way to cease their cries and nothing else. Name me <em> insane </em> for all I care, but I never chose this path for myself.”</p><p>“Then you must fight it.”</p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p>“You must fight it and look beyond what you think the voices in your head tell you.”</p><p>Dimitri scoffs, “Nothing irritates me more than baseless solutions. You make this sound as though it is a trivial matter.”</p><p>“I’m not saying that. I know well that your situation isn’t to be taken lightly. But consider reflecting for a bit.”</p><p>“Reflecting on <em> what </em> exactly?”</p><p>“About your objectives. About your reason. About how you are filled with guilt to the point you can’t help but think of that day over and over again.”</p><p>“You have no right to speak of that day,” Dimitri bellowed.</p><p>“Neither did you have the right to speak of my father,” Byleth shot back. He wonders about where he’s really going about with this method. He’s holding on to a conversation could crumble in any second, but it was a small chance for change.</p><p>“You’re lost, Dimitri,” Byleth says. “You’re devastated, afraid, and lost.”</p><p>“Silence,” he demanded, but Byleth goes on.</p><p>“You were torn from the Tragedy and it haunts you to the present. You can’t tear the visions from your mind and you remember them well, it’s mixing itself with the reality you see and you can’t help but fail to decipher one from the other. I know it well because I’ve been there myself.”</p><p>“Stop acting like you aren’t throwing such absurd words at the moment,” he snaps. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”</p><p>“Perhaps…” Byleth hesitates for a moment, “perhaps, I really don’t know everything, but I’ve made enough mistakes to know that what you’re doing isn’t… you.”</p><p>“Then what am I exactly? Since you know so much, <em>dear</em> <em>Professor</em>, just who or what am I?”</p><p>Byleth finds himself thinking for a fleeting moment of those days. The way he took his hand to the dining hall, the smile on his lips after a victory, the clumsiness of his fingers when he handled such fragile objects, the sound of his voice when he woke him from his slumber. It was hard to believe he was harboring vengeance in those days. It got the best of him, just like how it almost consumed Byleth alive.</p><p>“You’re Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd,” Byleth says. “Son of Lambert, crowned prince of Faerghus, the pride and leader of the Blue Lions, a comrade, a classmate, a friend, a student… you are many more things than a slave of guilt.”</p><p>Perhaps it could change this time, perhaps this could make Dimitri realize that he’s been treading the wrong path all this time. Byleth wanted to save him from it, he needed to be bring him back and—</p><p>Dimitri laughs bitterly.</p><p>“Is that another speech you prepared for me? It’s almost admirable how you go so far as to speak inspiring fallacies just to convince me to change my course of thinking.”</p><p>“I lied about no—“</p><p>“How <em> pathetic </em> you are as the goddess.”</p><p>Then it’s silent. </p><p>He’s gone nowhere but completed the cycle of the roundabout route. </p><p>There’s just something that snaps, and he realizes that he’s had enough with the act. </p><p>Byleth inhales sharply, “You know what’s pathetic? Your endless rambling about the dead, claiming that they wish for revenge but are unable to because they’re gone. How in the <em> world </em> are you even supposed to assume that? It’s pathetic how you keep saying that you’ll defeat Edelgard when you know very well that you were bound to die without our help! You have no right to call me pathetic for doing my duty because <em> you’re </em> the one being more pathetic between us both. All of us have lost someone in this damned war and none of us are constantly mourning and seeking revenge over those who are gone. <em> Why? </em> ” His blood boils, he feels the heat running up his neck; it was just like an overflowing glass that was bound to crack open. “Because it’s <em> pointless </em>.” </p><p>“Keep your mouth shut,” Dimitri demands.</p><p>“No matter how many times you say you hear their voices, you can’t. No matter how hard you try to bring them back, they’ll never return,” Byleth breathes out a heavy sigh, “The dead never spoke to you. Never did and never will.”</p><p>“I said keep it shut!”</p><p>“It’s about time that you stopped being such a delusional—“</p><p>The shadows move under the darkness, the glowing red orb dims under the light of the moon. When he emerged from the pillars, Dimitri was gripping his lance, poised to kill as he snarled ballistically at Byleth just like a rabid beast. His eye had dulled wholly, the pupil that had shrunken tremendously was surrounded by a sea of caliginous, melancholy blue. </p><p>In a flash, a lance whips in his direction, the tip of the Areadbhar slicing a few centimeters of his hair off before he sleights back in shock. He knew he was almost too late for that attack, though he did know that Dimitri was quick— just not as quick as Byleth. The lance swings from the ground towards the air, Byleth flips back with a palm covered in scales to lift himself then unsheathes the Sword of the Creator from his waist. They’re only meters apart this time, Dimitri glowers down at him, ready for his next attack in any second. Now that he realizes Byleth had taken his sword to combat, a sick grin formed on his lips. </p><p>“So, you were planning to kill me after all,” Dimitri grimaces. Byleth doesn’t respond, but grips his sword in his hand tighter instead. The weapons glared onto each other, just like their own wielders. Probably seeing the situation as he did, Dimitri gives a noxious laugh.</p><p>Byleth stiffened, but he wasn’t afraid. Just like any other battle, he anticipated that it would come to this one way or another, even though it was something he never wished would pull through. It was a whirlwind of arguments and fights that always led up to that very moment. Now that it did, there was no choice but to hold nothing back. This was no longer their friendly sparring back then, no longer lessons, no longer anything out of the context of fun, but perhaps a fight to the death. </p><p>He didn’t want to die, <em> heavens </em>, it’s one of the last things he wanted for himself. But death stared at him just a few meters away with the look of lividness in its eyes, and he’d do his best to fight it just like he always did. </p><p>If battling him was the only way to bring him back, Byleth knew he should do it. If getting hurt was the only way to get through, he might as well go on with it before it was too late.</p><p>Dimitri charges forward with the Areadbhar aimed towards his neck. The lance swings forward, Byleth holds his sword upright to his side, curving the blade under the other’s relic to get it out of the way. It paves an opening to the upper half, but Dimitri steps back quickly, missing the tip of the blade by mere inches. He isn’t within close range. The sword clicks then loosens into sections, Byleth whips it into the air and deviates it towards the target. Dimitri dodges the attack only quite swiftly, grunting when the extended sword nicks his armor. Byleth rotates his arm to deliver a different angle for the second attack and Dimitri’s vociferation could be heard when the sword finally slashes his cheek from afar. Then the prince was trembling in the distance, not from the pain, but from pure agitation.</p><p>When Byleth swings the extended sword once more, Dimitri clashes his lance against it this time. Feeling how the force deems his equilibrium unstable, Byleth slashes from the bottom horizontally to get at his legs in an attempt to sweep his feet over, but the prince vaults from the lower attack and leaps forward, bringing him back within close range. Before Byleth could even retract his sword back together, the Areadbhar was beginning to swing down on him. </p><p>He lifts the upper half of the handle to take the blow, his hands struggling to take position when they’re too close on the bottom of the sword. Byleth pushes up then tumbles backward to dodge the Areadbhar that plunges into the ground, he swings his sword back to its collected form. Dimitri strikes from the side, then descends the lance from the front. Byleth takes the blow from his right arm, the blade of his sword threatening to slice at the epidermis of his deltoid when it had already gone through his coat. He had no armor on, but he sucked in a breath to form the scales on his shoulder. Dimitri was pushing down with such force with a furious look on his face, the crimson liquid spilling down his cheek.</p><p>“You know every well,” Byleth grinds his teeth to the extreme force, “that it was never my intention to kill you.” He attempts to push the sword away from the fabric of his robes.</p><p>“Talk all you want, but this is oddly amusing. It’s like I’m the one giving you a lesson now, Professor,” Dimitri says, with his lips merely inches away from Byleth’s ear. “A lesson regarding the consequences of not keeping your mouth <em> shut </em>.”</p><p>The muscles of his arms were straining under the force, the relics both trembling and battling for power, but between them both, Byleth was quivering greatly. He breaks out in a broken wail when he feels the sizzling heat of his own relic bite into the scales, Dimitri’s manic grin not helping the pain at all. It was all so deleterious.</p><p>He changes the situation by activating his crest, he takes a second to squeeze his eyes shut, the silver scales come running down his arm to support his elbows. Power surges through him then he swings his sword to the right in an ovular motion and uses his heel to kick Dimitri near the collar, bringing him back to a larger range between them. He runs further back and extends his sword once more, swinging it into the distance and extending the bones of his arm for a far reach. One of Dimitri’s shoulder pads were skimmed off, he swung the sword back but Byleth didn't see the way the Areadbhar whizzed towards his direction. In a late attempt, he raises his shifted arm that gripped the sword and unintentionally activates his crest; the lance crashes against his sword, it rips a patch of his scales on the tip of its blade. The relics scud over the senescent brick floor behind Byleth, whose arm was bleeding from the large gash. There was no time to register the pain when Dimitri’s hands were already balling into the cloth of his robes, lifting him from the ground just to hurl him towards the walls crawling with moss.</p><p>He doesn’t breathe fast enough. It’s the wind first, then the bricks beneath the moss that collides against his head, the impact ricochets and there’s a clamorous crack he hears— it’s vague whether it was the wall or his skull. A wave of nausea hits him, the bile climbs up his throat, then he’s crawling over to a corner, retching out everything he had for supper.</p><p>His vision darkens, not from the shadows but from the tremendous aching in his head, there were stars he saw that didn’t reside in the night sky. He barely had the time to regain himself; he slumped on the wall when he saw Dimitri stomping towards him. </p><p>Byleth instantly regrets his decision to fight. He’s nearing him and he knows that he should summon the Divine Pulse, but his mind was too weak to turn back the clock.</p><p>He left with no choice but to finish what he’s started.</p><p>Just before Dimitri’s about to deliver his next blow, Byleth casts a fire orb towards Dimitri that he dodges off guard; however, thrown back by the larger second attack that hits him right in the chest and sends him flying to the stone parapet. When Dimitri’s down, Byleth gets up on his feet as hot liquid drips down his nose and his heavily gashed shoulder. He attempts to get his breathing back on track as his sight blurs, he careens to one of the pillars in order to regain consciousness. The melted scales dug into his skin, the dead cells refuse to shift back as he moves his arm, so he unclasps his cloaks to let the rest of his skin take in the air. The metal armor of it clunks against the ground beside him.</p><p>Dimitri struggles to get up, but when he does, his breastplate cracks open as blood spills from his lips. Byleth steps forward unsteadily but he manages to maintain steady breathing. He gives a slow heavy exhale and the bones extend from the posterior side of his skull, the horns extend like crooked branches and mimic the length of antlers. He still leans against the pillar, thrusting his hand upward to summon lightning from the sky. The extensions take its energy and it surges through him. With the lightning in his palms, he thrust them forward and Dimitri still manages to dodge the first and the second, but Byleth takes a deep breath and sends a beam of charges towards him. He moves his arm quickly, his energy was robbed from the horns and the scales on his arms but he keeps the power surging through. It strikes Dimitri when he whips his palms to the side, the prince lets out a blood curdling scream before falling on his knees. He then toppled forward with his body twitching in seizure-like movements as the electricity shoots throughout his veins.</p><p>Byleth watches and waits. </p><p>Dimitri doesn’t move from his position, probably— hopefully debilitated from the lighting that struck him. With ragged breathing, Byleth retracts the horns and the scales, then makes his way to Dimitri to heal him up immediately. He would be furious by the time he wakes up, but it was a chance to save the prince and the rest of their army. It would be worth it in the end, Byleth assured himself.</p><p>He’s clutching his shoulder and staggers to the unconscious man. Byleth stands by Dimitri’s prone figure and gathers the rest of his strength to manage a bit of healing magic. Byleth knew he had to speak to Mercedes after this and explain, but knowing her, she would just heal them with no explanation needed. It filled him with relief just thinking of it.</p><p>The palm of his hands glowed white and he bends down to place them on Dimitri, but he doesn’t anticipate the hand that grabs his shin and the other that takes his heel.</p><p>His voice gets caught in his throat when he falls onto his back, his breathing picks up the pace and before he knew it, his ankle was jerked to the side by extreme force. It was a moment of being in hell itself, the excruciating pain of his ligament stretching, tearing, and splitting open.</p><p>He’s unable to scream. It’s stuck, blocked through a loud gasp and the tears welling in his eyes. Byleth bites his lip, his teeth dig into his skin; blood oozes as he clouts Dimitri’s hand desperately with the other heel until he lets go. He supports himself with an arm and a leg to stand, he’s crawling until he finds the cobblestones to cling on, though the slippery moss makes him unable to stand properly. His trembling became incessant, his breathing ragged and broken, but he needed to do something. He needed to fight back even when everything <em> burned </em>.</p><p>Dimitri was already making his way to him and Byleth could only beg himself to shift one more time. He thinks nothing of the fatigue and pain weighing on his mind, he lets out a cry as an exhale and has his wings protrude out of the skin in between his scapulae. </p><p>There were no relics in their hands, but Byleth had his wings and his fists. Both of them were in a ragged state, and Byleth knew he was still quicker than he was even with the limited movements. He used the sharp edges of the phalanges to cut through, Dimitri hisses when Byleth manages to land cuts along his chest and his arms. The punches Byleth received were heavy, but his wings took the blow for him. Though he was at some sort of advantage because of the extra limbs, his ankle was complaining more than ever, Byleth knew he had to step away for a second before he could land another round of punches to knock Dimitri unconscious. With the scales refusing to form around his ankle, the only option to move around was to fly.</p><p>After successfully landing a punch on Dimitri’s face, he lunges back with his entire body moving before his wings. They extend forward, ventral to his body when they’re caught by Dimitri’s crimson hand. His back is tugged forward harshly and his ankle, hanging by the rest of his fixed ligaments, twists in an odd direction. Byleth yelps by the force that brings him forward to face the ground. He looks up and sees how the prince had both his hands, holding firmly on each end of a metacarpal. </p><p>Byleth looked at him, wide-eyed and pleading before that even happened, but Dimitri returned it with a cold, unflinching gaze. The wave of fear doesn’t finish its course when Dimitri brings the tension to the bone, making a large <em> snap </em> fill the atmosphere. Byleth screams this time, and when he does, he brings his other wing slashing down right under Dimitri's only eye.</p><p>How foolish. How foolish. How utterly <em> foolish </em> he was.</p><p>He could <em>die</em>. He knew very well he could die there. He had to get away before it was too late for him. How foolish of him to think that he could win this one like their sparring sessions from before. Times have changed. Dimitri has changed. And so has he.</p><p>While the prince was still hunched over the wound on his face, Byleth grovels across the ground to get up. It’s just one bone, he convinced himself, but it was an intensified version of a broken finger. He spreads his wings and takes off on one foot, the muscles around the broken bone ache and he’s sent to the ground. He curses under his breath and he begs himself to stand up. He pounds a fist to the ground and gets to his feet. He gulps down an inhale and takes a leap with a foot. The ground was no longer touching him, but he was fatigued to the limit. He had to leave. He had to pretend it never happened. He had to escape. The midnight air was already brushing across his bloodstained face, the moon was bright, all he had to do was—</p><p>It pierces right in between the radius and ulna. The Areadbhar glared at him through his wing, and even in the sky it could carry such a look. The moment he was in the sky, he was crashing down again; just like a bird that’s been pierced by a hunter’s arrow, he comes swirling back to the ground.</p><p>The impact against the stone was another blow, but he’s too tired to scream. With the last bits of his energy, he’s squirming to move but Dimitri was already there, tugging the relic from his wing, tossing the lance away, then digging his fingers through the locks of Byleth’s hair to yank him off the ground. He winces and grapples at Dimitri’s fingers in a pitiful attempt to stop them from pulling on his roots.</p><p>Dimitri brings his face close to his. “You are a very, <em> very </em>pestilent bastard.” </p><p>Amidst the wreck he was, emotions were about the only thing he had left. There was blood and saliva accumulated in his mouth, as a final resort, he spat at his face with no other words to spare. </p><p>As a result of that pitiful stunt, Dimitri violently pelts Byleth to the flooring, and before the air is taken from his lungs, he catches a faint view of Dimitri’s crest fading into the sky. The ground cracks, but there’s no telling whether it was one of his bones again.</p><p>He doesn’t scream. He doesn’t move. Sprawled on the floor, Byleth slows his breathing, and watches Dimitri loom over him like he always did. This feeling was all too familiar, the world around him was spiraling into darkness and lifelessness. Perhaps this was the end for him. Perhaps he went too far. The sensation of losing and death was so similar, he almost brought himself to laugh about it when realization dawns on him.</p><p>After how many sparring matches they had, Byleth lost for the very first time.</p><p>Heavy breaths were hard to differentiate from the wind. Dimitri was nearly beat up just like how he was; blood ran down the sides of his mouth and the cut on his cheek, the larger gashes still continued to bleed, and nerve-like scars ran up his neck from the lighting. Byleth could feel so compunctious about it, but it was for the best to think of himself this time since he was more botched up than he was.</p><p>Dimitri’s palms place themselves on Byleth’s neck, and he could already predict the events after. </p><p>He was really going to kill him, wasn't he? It comes as no surprise to him, especially when all they’ve done after meeting half a decade later was disagree, argue, and fight; Dimitri must’ve been itching to kill him ever since. As much as he didn’t want his life taken away, there was nothing Byleth could do. He couldn’t scream, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t raise a finger to stop him. What a pathetic way to die, but Byleth refuses to think that it would end like this. If there was some sort of miracle Sothis could give him, he begged for it. If fate could change, he pleaded for it to change at that moment. The Divine Pulse refused to work, so he squeezed his eyes shut to block out the horrid reality.</p><p>Dimitri’s grip tightened around his neck and the sensation was so familiar, so sickening, and so painful. Byleth quails.</p><p>But then the grip loosens quickly by the time he utters a noise.</p><p>When he opens his eyes once more, he realizes that Dimitri was looking at him, his eye scanning his entire body. Byleth was too jaded to even have minded, but they stayed like that for what felt like centuries. Dimitri’s dawdling was almost like he was still having second thoughts of merely squeezing the air out of him. Byleth strongly considered escaping, but the state he was in already deemed his attempt unsuccessful. He was practically immobilized with snapped bones.</p><p>“It’s a shame,” Dimitri says. He’s not looking at Byleth anymore, instead he’s gazing up at the moon, the candescent light illuminating the wounds they’ve inflicted on each other. “The monastery isn’t any different, but to think that a beautiful place like this... is begrimed by such lurid memories.” Byleth’s breathing hitched painfully. Dimitri looks down at him, “You remember it well, don’t you?”</p><p>The wind blows past them and the silence envelopes the atmosphere after. His ears could hear the shaky breaths he took and, <em>oh goddess, </em>how could he ever forget? Every time he entered that place, it was always that night that resurfaced.</p><p>How could he forget such an adverse mistake?</p><p>“The music, the conversations, the way you danced under the moonlight,” from his throat, Dimitri’s hand slides down his chest, then to the spot over his quiet heart. “I once thought you to be so beautiful, since I was blind to your false affection for me. I thought… I thought it was only I who received such treatment from you,“ he clicks his tongue, “turns out it was only an act of solicitude for yourself.”</p><p>“<em>Ngh </em>,” Byleth couldn’t find himself saying anything back, especially when the hand was pushed further on his chest. The physical pain and the words were towing down on him all at once.</p><p>“Whether your feelings were a lie or not, it hurt all the same. I’ve never felt such joy thinking about the fact that... someone in this damned world actually accepted and cherished me despite the wretched past I lived through. It was but an illusion of bliss, because they were a fabulist the entire time. I <em> despise </em>you for it. I despise you for getting close to me. I despise you for your false kindness. I despise you for giving me the illusion that my life was actually meant for something more.” His fingers spread across his chest, “Believing in you and falling for you was the biggest regret. Looking back at those moments… I find it difficult to believe that I was so pathetic.”</p><p>Once again, the hand on his throat tightens, “You make yourself no different from her, always coming up with ways to kill me without having to cut me down with your blades.” As his fingers begin to dig into his throat, Byleth whimpers. </p><p>But before he can go any tighter, Byleth utters his words.</p><p>“I lied.”</p><p>His hand halts abruptly; Dimitri’s no longer squeezing the base of his throat, but it stays where it is, no words uttered.  </p><p>“That night, I... I lied to you,” Byleth rasps. “I lied because I was selfish… and afraid.”</p><p>“Afraid of what exactly?”</p><p>If only he could describe it so easily. It was something intangible, something that came as a mangle of sensations that made him still with fear. He wanted so much so bad, but it was pulling him back like he was chained to a wall. There’s no escape and no hope. No light and no warmth.</p><p>There was a fine line between his selfishness and fear, perhaps he too was being delusional and perhaps there was a scar that refused to heal after all these years. Still, he couldn’t find the right words that didn’t come out as an excuse for foolishness.</p><p>“I am afraid of myself.”</p><p>No one knew of his capabilities or incapabilities, neither did he know everything about himself. Those words echo in his head, screaming that he was a disgrace of sorts, yet he couldn't single out the glaring reason as to why. There was something about it that made him believe he was constantly missing something, that made him afraid of falling into an endless pit where he’s vulnerable and overly dependent. It’s the warmth that made him melt, the heat that made him burn, and it’s the longing that made him wait no matter how many ages it took. He’s trying to put the smaller pieces together, on that night, they were going in the right places.</p><p>There was a man of silver, a man who caressed his cheek and gave him kisses that warmed him up in the cold nights. A man who kissed him with his lips closed before he left for another. He’d see Dimitri within the silver color, and it filled him with pure terror.</p><p>
  <em> Don’t fall. </em>
</p><p><em> Little Bluebell </em>.</p><p>It scared him to death.</p><p>Dimitri isn’t looking at him, the palms on Byleth’s neck already slid down above his breast bone. Despite always running out of patience, he looks calmer this time, awaiting a response from Byleth, who was an overflowing pitcher of blighted emotions. </p><p>“I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” </p><p>Byleth apologizes for lack of a better response. He could cry, but he does his best to keep them from spilling out. His beaten body was still capable of heating in shame and guilt, it burned more seeing how Dimitri was so complacent about it. His dignity and his pride was butchered from the very beginning, only when it was something in the process of building up, he tossed them away in that moment and begged the prince for an answer in his weakened expression.</p><p>His trembling fingers find the back of his hand. “I-If I could go back to that night,” Byleth croaks, “I swear… I would do it all over again and tell you the truth.”</p><p>“And what was that truth?” Dimitri asks slowly, carefully, and anticipatingly. </p><p>“That I felt the same… all along.”</p><p>The words don’t come out as difficult as he thought they would be, probably because of his weariness, but his uneasiness isn’t settled because of a lack of response coming from Dimitri. Despite his fractured body, the anxiety that courses through his system quickens as each second of silence passes; he couldn’t tell which felt worse between the apprehension and his torn ligaments.</p><p>“So it’s fine, isn’t it?”</p><p>He still wasn’t looking at him, it puzzled Byleth greatly, “Wha—“</p><p>Dimitri’s hand moves out beneath Byleth’s; they move in sync this time, trailing down from his chest, then halting with one of them slipped into the belt around his waist. Still too weak to sit up, Byleth grabs his arm.</p><p>“W-What are you doing?”</p><p>Dimitri’s eyes finally flicker to him. The corners of his lips turn up, but it doesn’t reach his eyes like it did before. He then leans in, lips so close that they were barely touching Byleth’s ear. The scent of blood was overwhelming. “You say you felt the same.”</p><p>“Yes. I did.“</p><p>“You say you felt the same,” he repeats louder, “yet, isn’t that just a huge contradiction?”</p><p>Words fail to slip off his tongue when there’s something wet against his ear that makes him gasp aloud. Byleth’s eyes are wide open, acutely aware of every feeling in his body that sent sparks rattling down his lower back; the hand pressing against his waist, the other cupped on his cheek, the wetness and the hint of teeth on his ear. Dimitri runs his tongue up to the tip of the cartilage, then nibbles down. Down to the earlobe, down to the lining of his jaw, then down to the open spot of his neck right above his collar.</p><p>“Why?” Byleth asks. There’s a displaced fear rising within the more his hands trail his skin.</p><p>“Why indeed,” Dimitri answers, his condensing breath hitting the skin of his shoulder.</p><p>Byleth’s lungs were burning. His skin is warm, and it stays warm until Dimitri’s teeth dig into it. His entire body jerks after feeling the sharp canines that have perforated through. Everything aches as Byleth pushes Dimitri with his open palm, hissing when Dimitri’s teeth latch onto him when he tries to pry him off.</p><p>He brings a fist to the back of Dimitri’s head, “Stop it!“ The blows were weak, it made the teeth sink in more instead. “What the <em> hell </em> are you doing?!”</p><p>His wrist gets caught in a tight grasp, making Byleth wince. Dimitri pulls back from his neck, swiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his other hand, the moonlight makes out the nonchalant expression on his face. “What do you think I’m doing?” Dimitri deadpans.</p><p>“Is that a question I’m supposed to know the answer to?”</p><p>“Perhaps,” he leans in once more, “or perhaps not. But isn’t something like this come as second nature to you? Isn’t it a habit? Or an addiction?”</p><p>“What are you—“</p><p>Dimitri‘s fist bangs against the flooring beside Byleth’s face, “Don’t you <em> dare </em> act like the epitome of immaculacy just because they believe you are the goddess!” His booming voice fails to make him jolt, but he isn’t any less afraid about the situation. “You are no different from before, no matter how hard you try to mask yourself with that image of the goddess, your tainted past comes seeping through the cracks.”</p><p>Ah.</p><p>It’s an issue he can’t erase, Byleth couldn’t blame Dimitri for that. Of course no one was going to forget such acts, it’s already reflected as to how people were hesitant of his leadership, they can’t seem to believe that he, out of all people in Fódlan, was granted the power of the goddess when he was sleeping around with people. He can’t find the right words to say to the prince until his hand slips through the partition of his robes, falling over his unclasped belt</p><p>“Stop this,” Bylet ordered, trying to keep his voice from wavering.</p><p>“Stop this?” Dimitri burlesqued sourly, then leaned in. “But… didn’t you want this all along?” </p><p>Byleth knew that he needed to get away. He needed to escape before it was too late but a cold hand traces over his stomach, then his sides, pressing down ever so slightly. His blood runs cold.</p><p>“Humor me, Professor. Have you thought of me differently after <em> that </em>night?” He moves lower, and lower, up to the garter of his trousers. </p><p>“S-Stop it.” Byleth pleads this time. It was so close, so close that the pit of his stomach was familiarly pooling with shame, lust, and pure terror. </p><p>The fingers are already dipping under his waistband when Byleth goes unhinged, he desperately shifts the scales of his shin to belt him on the forehead, but Dimitri’s hand slips out and digs his fingers into the gash of his shoulder. There’s no time to breathe once his leg suspends itself in the air, movement halted by the pain. Byleth’s arms are brought above him, pinned only by Dimitri’s hand with such incredulous strength. Attempting to squirm out of his grip, Byleth was deemed a helpless prey under the grasp of its predator. </p><p>“Might I indulge you with a short story?”</p><p>“Shut up,” Byleth hisses. “Let go.”</p><p>Dimitri’s fingers dig deep into the wound and Byleth gasps before biting his bottom lip to keep himself from screaming. “Such awful words from the goddess,” he says with a hint of amusement in his voice, his fingers retracting themselves from the wound and leaving Byleth wheezing for air. “I digress, it seems as though you weren’t told about the event that transpired a few days ago.”</p><p>“I was busy,” Byleth repines, his throat complaining over how used it was.</p><p>The prince nods blankly, “So you were. Well, there was someone who requested your presence, wee hours of the morning just the other day. It’s quite vexing to see how the monastery gates could let almost anyone in, but then again, these are trying times where no one would bat an eye on that matter.” His eyes flickered around his neck, his thorax, his abdomen, scanning and moving the other bloodstained hand over his skin. “The man was a mercenary. From Varely he claims.”</p><p>Byleth’s eyes grew wide and Dimitri had his eyes trained on his face this time. </p><p>“Where—“</p><p>“<em>Shh </em> ,” he silences him with a smirk lingering on his lips, “do not be rude and let me finish.” With his finger tips stopping right above his stomach, Byleth can’t help but tremble to the sensation. “He was a devout believer of the goddess wandering in the monastery when we crossed paths, he believed that you could bring an end to this mess and bring forth salvation. That <em> demoralizing </em> speech seemed to last for ages as I was forced to hear it… but things turned interesting once he realized who I was. He asked for my name,” he grins, “and his aura shifted so quickly. Do you want to know why?”</p><p>“No,” Byleth immediately answers, already knowing what was going to happen next.</p><p>“Ask,” he demands.</p><p>Byleth turns away in recalcitrance.</p><p>“How very jading of you,” he grabs his chin and tilts it harshly to face him again. “To continue, it was a friendly conversation to an argument, a calm tone to a harsh one— quite similar to our situation. That man apparently wanted me dead for some foolish reason, but then he revealed that you had some sort of... special bond with him. A <em> special </em> bond.”</p><p>Byleth doesn’t reply. He dreads the question as much as the answer.</p><p>“He told me, <em> ‘I’ll be sure that it’s my name that falls from his lips.’ </em> But when I told him that he was nothing but a stranger who was allowed to ravish you for a night, he came charging at me like some frantic beast.”</p><p>“He’s not just any stranger,” Byleth grits.</p><p>“Then I suppose you know his name, hm? He’s no different from the other people you’ve used and thrown away. I'm sure you knew him enough to scream <em> my </em> name while doing those concupiscent antics with him.”</p><p>There’s no accepting it, yet there’s no denying it either. He was on the verge of saying it countless times, it’s no surprise that the thread managed to snap. </p><p>“It’s quite ironic. He was enraged that you kept calling out for me that night, during the act and during a nightmare you were having when he willingly spared you his bed that night. I realized that he was just another believer who thought he could be everything for you, he was blinded by your kindness, your beauty, your purity. No different from the fool I was back then.”</p><p>“I-I was genuine," Byleth attempted to reason.</p><p>“To who? To me? To him? To everyone in Fódlan? Is being genuine spreading your legs for anyone just because you need to satisfy their needs? Is this the duty of the goddess? Is this what Rhea ordered you to do!?”</p><p>“Stop it!” Byleth exclaims. “That night is not what you think. I… I was… there was something wrong with me.”</p><p>“There is <em> clearly </em>something wrong with you,” Dimitri snarls. “That poor mercenary was deluded by such treatment, the only favor I could grant was to pull him out of his own misery.”</p><p>His blood goes still. </p><p>“What did you do to him?”</p><p>“I did what any man would do to make his misery disappear,” Dimitri smiles. “I cut his throat open and—”</p><p>The edge of his wing swings down to Dimitri's shoulder, but the man leans back quickly just like he anticipated it. Of course he would, Byleth was more beaten up than he was after all. He shouldn’t stop there, he knew he could land a blow and knock him unconscious now that his wrists were free. Byleth could do his next move, but Dimitri’s hand was already on the torn ankle, before he could even lift his arms, the hand jerked the ankle. All Byleth could do was hope his screams reach somebody, anybody out there.</p><p>“Stop struggling. Or do I have to maul you over again?” </p><p>His wing fell back down, his energy had gone past its limit. Byleth unwillingly complies; he remains unmoving and weak as Dimitri swings a leg above him once more, hands following the shape of his body.</p><p>“You… you’re a monster," byleth croaks weakly.</p><p>It’s tempting to sob right there. But it’s exhausting to keep it in as it was exhausting to let them out. </p><p>“As are you.”</p><p>There’s never an end to it. Dragging people into the mess he’s created, dragging them and taking their lives in the process for the sake of upholding ideals that were pieces of a different puzzle. Even if he were to go back to the time Seteth told him of the body near the cathedral and took responsibility, there was no changing the fate of that man. He could only wish that man had been more wise, but it doesn’t change the fact that the blame was his to bear.</p><p>Blood smears come from Dimitri’s fingertips, painting Byleth in his prints and streaks of a mixed crimson they shared. His lips are surprisingly soft pressed against his neck; the hot, thick liquid dripping down his mouth and onto Byleth’s skin. Ever so faintly, his fingers curled under the garter of his trousers, laggardly pulling down until they came off. The breeze passes, hitting the skin of his legs, triggering the curl of his spine. He had to run, he had to escape, but his arms lay idly above his head, no longer capable of lifting themselves. As his trousers come in contact with his ankle, Byleth exhales weakly, squeezing his eyes shut with the strength he could, wishing this was all just a nightmare he was bound to wake from. </p><p>He finds himself unable to utter a word, squirming when he could feel the fingers hovering over his cock before the contact. The tips were warm with blood and it wrapped around him with a squeeze. Byleth could release the whine in his throat, he could utter a noise, but his teeth dig into his bottom lip regardless of his bruises. The sensation was awakening something, reliving something he couldn’t quite describe.</p><p>
  <em> Oh, don’t do that. You’ll ruin your pretty face. </em>
</p><p>It’s different. It’s the same. Dimitri inserts his thumb in between his lips to separate his teeth from his lips, the pad pressing down on his tongue while Byleth fights the urge to bite his finger off. Only if he hadn’t choked on the other finger thrust into his mouth, Dimitri’s thumb would have been long gone.</p><p>His movements below come to a pause, but his bloody fingers continue to roam around the heat of his mouth. “Do you recall those days back in the monastery? Those days you took the initiative to give me additional lance training or those times we’d spar for fun? I suppose I could call that an excuse to be around you, but that’s not really important now.” His long fingers leave his mouth. “You always took that bulky coat of yours out before we’d sparred— I realized how... how small you looked, how frail, and how narrow your shoulders actually were,” his saliva-coated fingers down his chin, then to the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “From your shoulders, a part of your neck was always exposed. I imagined it to be clear, just like the rest of your skin, somewhat tempting to sink my teeth into.”  Lips attach onto the skin inferior to his jaw’s underside, Byleth’s eyes fly open as he lets out a pained squeal when Dimitri suckles hard like a leech that drew blood from its host. When he pulls back, his smile is sickeningly victorious, “And now I have.” </p><p>Byleth’s unmoving legs are hoisted up Dimitri’s shoulders, shins sinking into the pelage coat, and bottom pressed against the cold metal plates. It’s terrifying, it’s disgusting, it’s dehumanizing. The sky was turning light, it flickered to a ceiling before flickering back.</p><p>“You know, I did my best to disregard the rumors, I placed my faith in you and ignored the scent of liquor on your skin, turned a blind eye on the changing bruises on your neck, but even when you knew very well how I felt— even when I was the one defending and speaking up the against the gossip your abhorrent acts, you gave yourself to strangers and even that <em> vermin </em> from the other class. I’m terribly exhausted. You’ve tricked me into your schemes, had me dancing on the palm of your hand only to toss me away afterwards.”</p><p>“That isn’t… true.”</p><p>“And why should I believe that? Not only are you a blood-stained monster and a fabulist,” he leans in. “You’re a whore.”</p><p>Metal unclasps from one another then clunks hard onto the cobblestone floor. His quads press on something firmer, more fabric-like. Byleth’s bottom lip trembles as he realizes the consequences of his own actions. He never knew. He never knew this would be his punishment— punishment for simply wanting to feel alive.</p><p>What exactly did he do before all this? What did he do so wrong for him to keep depending on such things just for the sake of living? Where did it all start? Where did this fear come from and why was it so sickeningly familiar to him?</p><p>“Please, Dimitri. P-Please don’t do this,” his voice starts to crack under his desperation. He believed he was different. He was but it was Byleth's fault that he's become the same.</p><p>“But do we not feel the same? Can we not forge that ‘special bond’ you shared with many, many others?”</p><p>“<em>Please </em> Dimitri,” he could only plead with the same, awful sensation from years ago slowly rising up his throat. The blunt tip was already aligned against his entrance, it made him want to retch. </p><p>
  <em> It will hurt the first time, but I assure you, it will feel good soon. </em>
</p><p>“No, no, please…“</p><p>“It’s alright, Professor,” Dimitri coos. “You’ll be saying the right name from now on.”</p><p>Before he could even plead for him to stop, Dimitri thrusts in with a sharp jostle of his hips. Byleth’s chokes on the scream caught up in his throat, his head thrown back and mouth gaping as he’s trying to catch his breath; a dull sense in his body registers the sound of another muscle that had torn apart. With a sharp inhale, the heavy smell of blood swirls in the air. His vision goes along with the swirling sky that flickers from the tavern ceiling, a wooden plank, then back under the stars.</p><p>Dimitri lets out a soft, shaky moan, “Oh... you’re so tight. It must’ve been...” he pulls back, then thrusts forward, making Byleth scream, “weeks since you were last used.”</p><p>Just like every enemy he’s killed, Dimitri spent no time for mercy for Byleth’s cries fell on deaf ears. His fingers tensed around his thighs above him with every thrust, still unable to harness the feeling of his arms about him. It was painful; every movement aching, pained heightened to the welkins with the absence of alcohol. Dimitri pushed in with baroque force, his perineum stretched to the limit, brimming with the girth and struggling to take it all in just when blood mingled with his slick. </p><p>The overall familiarity dispersed then. No memory could provide him the sensation of his first time, but when he cried out, it was sure that it was the first time he was conscious of the feeling when he’s humiliated— so filled with anguish when he was held. His mind wanders off to another place, just to flicker back to the reality before him. He feels small, smaller, then the smallest he could be, yet it’s still the same thing happening over and over again. Even when his arms were as thin as twigs, it’s the same brute force that filled and emptied him. It was no longer Dimitri he saw, with his blurring vision he saw different faces with the same expression, grinning and panting as they spared no mercy.</p><p>He let them fall. There was no longer any control over his body. The tears ran down his face, but he did not sob.</p><p>As much as he was feeling so miserable and so abused, his body responded in an antithetical way; abdomen swirling with fortuitous ardor, his skin radiating heat from his senses, his blood flowing around his body, rushing towards the lower sector. It’s second nature. It’s a habit. An addiction. A sickness.</p><p>“It’s responding,” Dimitri pants. “Just takes someone filling you up to get you like this. How terribly profane.”</p><p>Dimitri’s bloodstained hands move around his body. The knees on his shoulders, trailing down to his quads, thumbs rubbing his hamstrings, then down to his stomach, pressing on his chest, to his shoulders, then finally he supports himself by placing them on the pavement beneath. </p><p>
  <em> It will feel good. It will feel good. </em>
</p><p>It’s animalistic. The way he bends over, lower with every blistering thrust that he makes, their faces only inches apart. And with every push, Byleth could feel himself coming apart. The angle changes with another sharp thrust, and it hits right deep into the bundle of nerves that send a current running down his spine and his eyes flying open. His hoarse throat chokes on the air he inhales through his mouth, and tears blur his vision of the night sky; the stars looking like streaks of white, and the moon morphs from its shape to an ellipse. With enough strength, one of his arms catches Dimitri’s head, his fingers pulling at his hair viscid with red. </p><p>The more movements there were, the more his sights blurred, the more he uttered winces and sorrowful moans, every sound he emitted tore his throat like a burning, hot bile that rose from his stomach.</p><p>“Could you still say it?” he grunts. “Could you still say that you feel the same?”</p><p>His arms shift from the pavement to Byleth’s back, lifting him and his broken wings off the stone and bringing his face closer to Byleth’s collar bone, his grunts and heavy exhales blowing on his skin. Byleth's head lolls back like a lifeless doll, still faced to the view of the sky, he’s dragged to the rhythm of a miserable dance fate had led him. Then suddenly, he’s small again. He’s a child on Jeralt’s shoulders, still a child whisked away on a spring day, still a child who sobbed at the pain of having everything taken away from him. He was a child who never grew up from that day, and he certainly knew nothing had changed.</p><p>
  <em> This will be our secret… alright? </em>
</p><p>With his head slumped behind, his tears rolled down his cheeks silently, a sob caught in his throat. </p><p>It becomes faster, and he’s no longer able to see the sky when the sense pooling in his stomach was able to burst, the stars seeming as though there were another hole in the void. </p><p>“Could you help me, Pro... Professor,” he groans, nearing his limit. “Could you… tell me. Could you save me… save me from that day—“</p><p>A moment before it’s finally burst, he catches it faintly.</p><p>He’s never felt it. When he trembled, a myriad of emotions washed over him all at once; the pain, lust, longing, anger, aching, and sympathy all just came falling over his limp, weak complex. His tears mingled with the blood that dripped down his nose, feeling so miserable about himself, yet he couldn’t harness the feeling when there were words he longed to say. Not long after, Dimitri let out a long groan, a howl as though he were a beast under the full moon. His arms enveloped his back to a desperate embrace, forcing in a few, slower thrusts before he let go. Byleth wished he didn’t put him on the ground so nicely. He should’ve dropped him and let him bleed to death.</p><p>They’re given a moment to breathe, though Byleth could feel his pace slowing down quicker, taking deeper, bigger breaths through his mouth since his nose was clogged with snot. </p><p>It’s a similar feeling. The sensation of hatred boiling in his blood the time he saw Monica stab his father right before his eyes. The sensation that filled him when he envisioned that mercenary with the beautiful lady laughing the night away. The sensation that filled him when the lady came crying, telling him over, and over again not to do the same thing she did. </p><p>It’s different. It’s the same.</p><p>He was brimming with such hate; so much hate that he lost himself. Perhaps, he should’ve listened to that voice despite that. Perhaps he should’ve kept loathing the thought and everything else about it.</p><p>Perhaps he should’ve loathed having to love someone.</p><p>Perhaps he should’ve loathed Dimitri.</p><p>Perhaps he should’ve just died.</p><p>His raw throat sputtered wheezes as his lungs burned, the rise and fall of his chest off sync with Dimitri’s pace. Amidst the nausea that was slowly corroding him, he saw him.</p><p>He sees him. And for a moment, he’s faced with the same look from five years ago. The look he was faced with when those bitter words came rolling down his tongue. The words he regretted ever since— words could never take back. It’s the same expression, perhaps even more sullen than it was before. When he sees him, he’s hurting. </p><p>He’s hurting.</p><p>He remained hopeless until the warmth of Jeralt’s hand cups his cheek, almost as if it was real enough to wipe his tears away. Byleth knew he was never going to live up to his ideals, but just this once... just this one last time, he would like to feel kind again and sympathize no matter how absurd it was. To think that it was only for a moment, it was already enough for him to go on.</p><p>““I’ll help… you live,” Byleth struggles to say, his thoughts dissociating to another consciousness.</p><p>Dimitri looks at him, his blue eyes that Byleth was so fond of, filled with much sorrow and emptiness he could never fill. If Byleth could just take the pain away with his touch, he would’ve done so a long time ago. But not even the goddess’s power could help him.</p><p>“I’ll… I’ll save you… no matter what it takes,” he says close to a whisper. </p><p>Not long after he says those words, it fills him with a fleeting relief. Somewhere along the deepest places in his mind was satisfies or perhaps reassured that he hasn’t lost himself. Perhaps, it wasn’t losing himself. It was just the words themselves that gave that brought him peace within. He always longed for those words to fall from someone else’s lips.</p><p>Dimitri looked so taken aback, but then again, it could’ve been another delusion from his pain and the tears filled his vision. After a moment of stillness, the pressure left his body, a familiar sound of shuffling clothes and clinking armor filled the atmosphere. The sound was soon swept up in the wind and there, Byleth knew he was alone. </p><p>So, he stayed unmoving in the goddess tower without a single thought in his mind. Tears rolled down with no sound emitted from his throat. Despite all of that, clouds continued to roll by, the wind continued to come and go. The buzzing in his ears was incessant.</p><p>He lay there, battling the long lost feeling of wanting to end it all.</p><p>And at least in that battle, he triumphed.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>um, the next chapter isn’t any better since we’ll be going back to the past. if you couldn’t handle this chapter, please don’t force yourself to read the next one. i have a draft of it already but i’ll admit that it wasn’t the best experience writing it.</p><p>online classes are really pulling me back from updating quicker, but i promise that i’ll update asap. if you have any questions, feel free to hmu in the comments. thanks again for all the support! it really keeps me going kehehe</p>
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